#there’s still so much comfort in its leather seats but he doesn’t need it to survive anymore

[forlorn-crows]

𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆

just a lil something i tortured @divine-misfortune with last night after he shared this post with me and said "Now hear me out Zeph/aeth and or omega bc they won’t slow down fr a damn second "

and thus i started a doc lovingly called "zephyr/omega go to sleep ya old man"

1263 words of omega misusing quintessence in order to (lovingly i swear) force zephyr to get some rest. yes zephyr will be mad at him later. yes omega is being a lil bit of a bastard. yes i am indulging in my (our) hypnokink, just go with it.

“You’re a stubborn old thing, you know that?”

Zephyr rolls their eyes before side-eyeing the quintessence ghoul, making a face. “Care to elaborate?”

“Been spending a lot of time with those new ghoulettes. When was the last time you slept?” Omega puts a hand on the back of the leather armchair Zephyr is currently seated in, where they were, up until now, engrossed in a text about ancient languages. 

They bite their tongue against the urge to correct him on Cirrus and Cumulus’ names. “I slept last night, there’s no need for your concern.”

“Oh, last night, hm? So that wasn’t the organ I was hearing in the wee hours of the morning?”

“You are as old as this building, Omega, surely you’re aware of the noises that aged pipes make when all else is silent.” 

He tuts. “Far too melodic for old plumbing, Zeph.”

Zephyr grumbles and makes to return back to their book without replying. Omega chuckles, and suddenly his hands are resting on their shoulders, thumbs heavy over the strained tendons on the back of their neck. 

“Why don’t you let me help?”

The air ghoul grumbles again. Slots their small stack of notes along the book’s binding as a makeshift bookmark and snaps the thing shut. They place it onto the table and stare at the fire in the hearth.  

“And why should I let you?” they say to the fading embers. 

Omega hums. “Because you need your rest, you cranky ghoul.”

“I am plenty rested.”

“These knots in your shoulders say otherwise.”

Zephyr closes their eyes and sighs like an exasperated teacher. “And you claim that I am the stubborn one?”

“Come on,” Omega goads them. Telltale magick crackling to life beneath his fingertips. “Doesn’t have to be much.”

Before Zephyr can so much as think about scurrying away with their book, warm quintessence seeps into their bones, the tension held there unraveling from the inside out. Their eyelids flutter, shoulders slumping. Some undignified noise bubbles up from their throat, and they can barely catch their chin from hitting their chest as their head lolls forward. 

“You . . .” They try to protest, tongue too heavy in their mouth to form its usual elegant timbre. Their hands can’t even grip the arms of the chair anymore, cementing them into place and thwarting any chance they had of escaping Omega’s nagging. 

Said quintessence ghoul shushes him, self-satisfied and certainly not even close to genuinely comforting. “There you go. See? Knew you were tired.”

“Hn . . .’m not—”

“You are, look at that sleepy face.” Omega brushes a few strands of hair back behind their horns, their head leaning into his touch without their permission. Zephyr’s eyes are drooping, rolling with the effort of trying to keep them open. Maybe they are more tired than they thought, he didn’t give them that much magick, did he?

Omega coos at them, running his thumb along the base of their horn. “Just close your eyes,” he whispers. 

Zephyr just groans, something close to uh uh, but it doesn’t sound very disagreeing. They’re falling asleep sitting up, and his warm hand against the side of their face does nothing but drag them closer to unconsciousness. Suddenly, they don’t want to get away from him. Magick swirls all syrupy in their veins, and, really, it’s getting harder and harder to have any opinions on the situation. 

Behind them, Omega shakes his head and loops around to the front of the chair, still cradling their head as he kneels between their parted legs. The hands at their sides, having slid off the arms of the chair, twitch towards him. Zephyr watches Omega’s other hand as it comes to hold the other side of their face, eyes slow and delayed as they track its movement. 

“You’d do well to listen to me, you tired old hen,” Omega chides them. He wiggles their head a little, not unlike a chiropractor looking for sore spots. Ensuring they’re close to limp and loose. 

Zephyr just lets him. Has no choice, really. They’d call him a plethora of names later—bastard, unwelcome imp, meddling hypnotist spawn—but the thought of remembering to do so slides away like rain on glass. 

He must sense the fleeting thought behind Zephyr’s glassy eyes, because he adjusts their head again, tightening his grip almost imperceptibly. 

“None of that; you’re being so good, aren’t you? I’m only helping, aren’t I? Little bit of magick to get rid of all those pesky cobwebs between your ears. I know, you’re so tired underneath all those stubborn thoughts. Just takes a nice, kind ghoul like me to help you relax, doesn’t it?” On and on he drones, the words going in one ear and out the other, washing away their own internal monologue and replacing it with his own. They are tired, and an afternoon nap isn’t so terrible, they aren’t really busy. And Omega’s helping them. 

Definitely not using his magick in some smug, actually selfish way, rendering the normally uptight ghoul completely powerless in less than a second. No, it’s completely selfless—a show of his care and concern for Zephyr’s wellbeing. Absolutely not a vehicle to win any kind of argument, not at all. 

Their breathing is slowing now, neck nearly limp in Omega’s hands. Sinking deeper into the fuzzy embrace of sleep. 

“That’s it,” he lilts. “You’re gonna feel so much better, and I won’t even say ‘I told you so.’ How does that sound?” 

Zephyr responds with a long exhale through parted lips, left thigh twitching randomly as the pleasant numbness settles in. 

Omega smirks. “Good.” With one last push of quintessence, he tilts their head just so and watches as their eyes unfocus and fall shut, jaw dropping open with the softest noise as they drift asleep in his hands. The quiet snores follow just seconds later, Omega’s hands the only thing keeping them upright. 

He waits until he’s sure they’re asleep, warming his back against the dying flames while Zephyr slumps in their chair. Only then does he pull back the tendrils of his magick, letting it seep down towards the floorboards as slow as molasses so as not to accidentally rouse them. Thankfully, the library is empty this time of day. Nothing to interrupt the air ghoul’s much needed sleep. 

They’re lax and peaceful now, but Omega’s sure he’ll hear about it when they wake. He laughs to himself at the plethora of elegant insults that come to mind. For now, he takes satisfaction in the way Zephyr’s head lolls back against the chair with the gentlest press of his pointer finger, drool making its way out of the corner of their mouth already. 

“Cute,” the quintessence ghoul comments, smoothing out the wrinkles in his button-down. And then, as a wicked afterthought, he presses the pad of his finger to the middle of their forehead again, sneaking in a cheeky suggestion of a dream wrapped in plumes of balsam and petrichor. Snickering to himself when Zephyr whines quietly and their tail kinks up at the end. “Enjoy,” he whispers, making his exit. 

Omega knows he won’t get any thanks for that—a pity, really, considering it was quite a nice little fantasy—nor will he get any thanks for helping (forcing) Zephyr to get some rest. At the very least, he’ll get a very disgruntled and haughty air ghoul glaring at him for the remainder of the day. 

Omega’s fine with being berated for misuse of magick if it means the poor thing won’t be sleep deprived. Until then, he files away Zephyr’s reaction to it for later.

#author is not sorry for pushing the hypnokink agenda onto the masses #ficlet #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfic #ghost fanfic #fanfic #zephyr ghoul #omega ghoul #omega x zephyr #zephyr x omega #zephyr/omega #omega/zephyr #cw: hypno kink #no i didnt proofread this #quintessence as hypnosis #wheres that anon here i wrote more pspspspsps #dont think about this serious bitch being reduced to an absolute puddle under...other circumstances #yes omega is being a bastard. can you blame him.

[plush-rabbit]

Johnathan Ohnn Headcanons

Request: Hi! If its okay, can you make HCs of Johnathan Ohnn with a partner who likes walking around as a stim? They're only comfortable doing it around at home/their room since they feel like its embarrassing. They literally just get up and start shuffling about. Spinning around. Like. Circling a table as if they were a hawk. Doing laps. In a silly manner. Thank you! 💞

A/N: I like to hc he has this stim because when he meets miles he does little steps and im like !!! (i also added a bit more of some other moving stims)

When you start to talk about things that interest you, Johnathan takes notice of how your whole body seems to become animated. Your hands will move around, fingers spreading open and curling over into claws, as you tell him about a new television show that you’ve recently gotten into. Slowly, your legs start to bounce, and he can see just how stimulated you are. Your legs will kick out, the tips of your feet tapping against the floor, and soon you’re up and walking around. Your voice is raised, and you stutter over your words, and he’s interested in it all, clinging to every word and nodding along as you speak without a filter. When you smile at him, bright and with teeth glinting under the light, he knows he would listen to you rant about anything as long as it’s you. 

There are moments where he can tell you’re getting nervous at how much you pace, and you’ll retreat somewhere private for a moment. He’s figured it out that you might feel embarrassed about how you stim, so he tries to make his presence aware before visiting you or giving you the space you need. Even if he does have a key to your home, he always makes sure to knock or at least give you a heads up of when he’s going to arrive. He doesn’t ever want you to feel ashamed about your stims, so he makes sure that whatever boundaries have been placed- such as you preferring your privacy- he’ll respect it without questioning it. He understands the boundaries that are placed, and he never wants to feel as if he’s trying to be privy to your every inner thought.

He’s taken into account of your spinning chair in your room with the faux leather peeled and the chair clicking when you turn. Whether he knows spinning is one of your stims or not, he takes it upon himself to get you a new spinning chair. He can see how much you like yours- how you roll around your room, how you prefer to stay seated at your desk, and the fact of how worn it is. The new chair is similar to your old one, and he doesn’t expect you to use it if you’re still clearly attached to your old one, but he does give it to you as an alternative to when your old chair starts to leave pieces of leather stuck to the back of your thighs. 

With your chair, he’s also gifted you a nice pair of headphones. Music seems to help stimulate you, and he notices that when the two of you ride in a car together, you like to replay songs or tap along with the beat. He might not know the full extent of your stimming, so he’ll try to give you things that might help in putting you in a more relaxed state. Music is common interest for most people, so he’ll make you playlists or give you access to his, to listen to when you feel energy just build up without having any sort of outlet for it to express itself in. 

If time allows for it, he likes to take walks with you. He knows how stimulated you can get and can relate to the bursts of energy, so the two of you will go on walks together to burn off the energy. You have this skip in your step, and he can tell how you want to just run by the way you jog to the nearest tree and point out a root to him, bouncing in your step and waving at him to catch up to you. While walking is a nice leisure activity for the two of you, he gets that you just need to run, so he’ll sit at a bench with a notebook on his lap as you jog around the park.

Joining you for the occasional walk brings him joy. He likes how you’ll hold his hand in yours, keeping a tight grip on it and pulling him along to everything interesting that you see. You shuffle along, slowly growing closer to him, that the two of you bump against each other, your arms wrapping around one of his, desperate to keep him close to you. Your body builds up its own tension and you pull him along, begging for him to quicken his pace, only to be met with defiance as he stands still. You slap playfully at his arm and pull forward, and he watches your back, watches as you find something that catches your gaze and steadily, he approaches you.

Being so close to you, he’s gotten better at picking up when you’re starting to have bursts of energy. Your legs will bounce, and you’ll tap at the ground, and your hands will flap. It’s easy to tell when you’re enjoying your time somewhere with him because of how much you beam. It’s written so clearly, and he can tell that you need to do something, and when the table shakes and you talk about a series that you’re watching, he’s invested in hearing your words. He latches onto every thought, nodding and asking questions, enraptured by how animated and lively you are. 

If your pacing is more of an anxiety response, he tries to take notice of what is causing you to become so anxious. You pace around, and he’ll watch, asking you questions to help bring you back down to reality. He tries to help ground you- to get you to voice your worries, but it only worsens them, and your pacing has become more rapid, more unorganized as you worry at your bottom lip. When you finally sit down, only to stand again a few moments later, he just sits there, letting you vent to him.

It’s when you're anxious does he get worried. You pace and pace, and you can’t seem to stop moving. You talk, words slurring and stuttering against one another, that it makes it difficult to keep up with your train of thought. You pace around the coffee table, and you hide yourself in the kitchen, walking back out with a bit more of a rush in your step. He tries to talk to you, to get you to calm down, but when it seems that you’re only growing more anxious, he kisses the top of your head, and motions for you to go relax in your room, to stimulate yourself until you can finally hear your thoughts. 

With Johnathan becoming The Spot, it’s gotten difficult to take walks with you. He can cover up in jackets and hats, but he still feels the stares that people give him. You rationalize that most people probably think it’s those skin-tight costumes, and while he’ll agree with a wordless nod, he still doesn’t like the stares. While he’s understood your need to walk when stimming, and has even indulged in it himself, he never got the euphoria from doing paces until then. Holding your hand in his, he likes to just run with you as if there’s something that the two of you are running from. And when the two of you are sat on the ground, grass plucked between your fingertips and your head on his shoulder, he wishes that he had run with you more, that he had taken your hand earlier and just ran until his legs gave out and until he was far away.

#jonathan ohnn x reader #johnathon ohnn #jonathan ohnn headcanons #johnathan ohnn x reader #jonathan ohnn #the spot #the spot atsv #the spot headcanons #the spot spiderverse #the spot x reader #im sorry if these arent as good!! #youd think these would be good #because like i have this stim #i put on some tunes and just stim all over #i got my chair and all #um i had something else to say #but i forgot #aw dip

[seikkoi]

ᴅᴇᴠᴏᴛɪᴏɴ. | tony stark x f!reader

18+ minors dni

tw: nsfw, mild dubcon elements, rough sex, drunk sex, degradation, edging, choking, bruising, possessive behavior

word count: 3,108

pairing: tony x female reader

part two | part three

“No, what?” His hand around your throat isn’t tight enough for you to not respond, and you know what he’s asking for regardless. “No, sir, I’m sorry.” Tony’s hand tightens once the words leave you, eliciting a gasp from your lips. You hear him suck in a breath at the words, his face so dangerously close to yours. “I expect your devotion. That doesn’t end when you leave this office, am I understood?”

The music and lights almost seem more intoxicating than the alcohol swirling in your glass. The clear liquid has all the physical attributes of water, with none of the hydrating effects, leaving your throat dry as you laugh at whoever’s throwing jokes at you. You can’t tell if the guy’s actually funny or if you’ve just had that much to drink.

At this point, neither matters. You’re seated at the bar for some event your boss, Tony Stark, dragged you along to that turned into a raving afterparty. It honestly started quite tame, with speeches and awards, but now it was a few steps away from a club. It’s still not too wild, the venue large enough for you to sit comfortably on the leather barstool without anyone feeling the need to push past you. You’d dressed under the expectation of sitting through hours of boredom, a long black dress too tight and heels too high for standing amongst the growing crowd. 

Had it been any worse, you would have already found Tony to make a swift exit. Instead, he ends up being the one to find  you . Only a few hours had passed, yet you managed to cross the bridge over from tipsy to drunk. Drunk enough to not care that the world-class comedian you’ve been entertaining has his hand on your thigh. 

Or to notice the look on Tony’s face as he makes his way towards you. You’re laughing while your glass comes back to your lip, noticing Tony only when he speaks, suddenly next to you.

“Dying to know what’s so funny here.” There’s nothing casual in his voice, stern with eyes trained on the man beside you. 

The stranger's hand on your thigh is brought to your attention at the feeling of its departure. You can’t quite make out Tony’s expression, but you know it isn't good. Tony’s hand rests in his suit pockets, with relaxed shoulders not matching the sternness in his voice. It’s enough to unease the touchy stranger who clears his throat, glancing a last look at you before turning away.   

It’s then that Tony turns back to you, and you immediately want to go back to 5 seconds ago when he wouldn’t spare you a glance. His eyes are dark, angry staring into you. 

“How much have you had to drink?” His tone is the same one he gave the stranger, making you recoil even more. Especially since you don’t have an accurate answer.

“Only a few.” You chuckle, an attempt to diffuse tension and a product of the alcohol. “Why, is there a problem, sir?” 

Tony takes the now-empty drink from your hand, setting it on the counter. As you start to protest, his hand is already in yours, pulling you from the bar. 

You can’t get much of a word out, between the thumping music and speed in Tony’s stride. Before you know it, the noise is behind you as you exit the doors into the cool night air. Tony’s hand remains in yours until you grace the sidewalk. His hands dive into suit pockets, presumably looking for his phone to call Happy.

The air is slightly sobering, making you aware of the fact that what just happened was completely out of left field. But you're too drunk to figure out a reason. You’d worked at Stark Industries as their CFO for long enough to regard Tony as more than a simple coworker. You were still his employee, eager to help him in any way possible. A good day at work was any day that you actually felt useful to him. He had a habit of not delegating enough, and you had to make it clear more than once that you were there for him, to make his life easier. There may have been a playful gesture here or there, but you knew enough of his personality to know he was that way with  everyone . You knew enough about how he saw you to know he had no right to be upset at the idea of you letting your hair down. More than that, you’d always tried to be respectful to him. Despite his insistence that his first name was fine, you couldn’t suppress the need to show respect by calling him Mr. Stark or sir. 

A word doesn’t pass between the two of you- not during the brief wait for Happy or the ride back. Tony spends the entire journey either on his phone or staring out the window. He doesn’t explain nor spare another look your way. The longer he ignored you, the worse you felt. Even though you had no idea what you were guilty of.

The ride does little for sobering you up, stepping out in front of the tower still dazed. You walk in with him, his focus still on that stupid phone. You give an eyeroll that he doesn’t notice, walking into the elevator. You’re starting to think this sudden episode had nothing to do with you all. Maybe there was a work emergency?

At the soft close of the elevator doors, Tony stands beside you, fingers typing away. You can feel irritation rising. You've been waiting for an explanation that he was taking too long to give. 

“I’ve never known you to be one to leave a party early, sir.” You lean back against the wall, listening to the quiet hum. 

He doesn’t respond or even move his head. It was probably the drink's fault, but the silent treatment act now really began to annoy you. 

“Care to give me any explanation for you dragging me out of there like a child?” The words are harsher now, hopefully showing how fed up you were becoming.

“You were acting like one.” He speaks without moving, with a low tone and his own annoyance. 

“Excuse me?” You push yourself off the wall to stand next to him again. 

His eyes still don’t move from that stupid cell phone, and doesn't he grant you a response.

“Forgive me for forgetting about work for one night and having a few drinks.”, you scoff, voice raising. 

“A few is an understatement.” His volume stays the same, but you can tell it’s taking all of his strength not to shout back. That’s not what flips you to anger, it’s his audacity.

“Who the hell are you to be counting my drinks? I’m my own person outside of working for yo-” You’re cut off by him suddenly pocketing his phone, turning, and stepping towards you. You step backward towards the wall, expecting him to leave some distance between you two. He doesn’t, forcing you the short distance back to the elevator wall until you two are only about a foot apart. 

It’s then that he grants you a look, and just like before at the venue, you want to go back to before you saw the anger in his eyes. 

“And who the hell are you to act like that?” His gaze is unbreaking and ice-cold, only inches away from your face. It extinguishes any fire you had built up towards him for his attitude.

“Act like what?” It’s a genuine question- the shameful guilt you had earlier in the car returning. You can’t look away from him, despite how badly you want to push him aside and call him crazy.

“That guy at the bar had his hand halfway up your dress and you were too drunk to even fucking notice.” It's harsh but a hint of concern breaks through.

Caught off guard, you don’t have a response for that, let alone any explanation. You stay quiet under this gaze.

“You should be  thanking  me. That venue was packed. Do you know what could have happened to you if  I  didn’t notice?”

You stutter for a second, stuttering on words that don’t take for. You felt genuinely terrible now- between the fact that Tony had to be concerned for your safety, and the fact that you got that drunk. It hadn’t felt like a lot at the moment, but it definitely did later on. Even now, there’s that familiar swimming feeling hanging out the back of your brain. To make matters worse, you fully snapped at Tony about it, your boss. 

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, body softening.

To your surprise, Tony closes what little distance remained between you two, bringing his face close to you. He braces an arm above you on the wall, almost to make sure you don’t think about moving. 

“The way you just went off about it? No, I don’t think so. Is that your idea of having fun? Getting shit-faced and letting anyone do what they want to you?” His words feel like acid, bitter and burning. Tears start to sting in the corners of your eyes. There’s no concern this time- just disappointment and rage. You almost think it’d be better if he simply yelled.

“I don’t-”

“You like it, don’t you? Having men touch you wherever they want?” He keeps his eyes trained on yours, meaning every word. As he speaks, the elevator dings, signaling that you've reached the offices.

The boldness of his words leaves you speechless, shocked at his accusation. 

“No, Mr. Stark, that’s not the case I just-” You can’t handle the look he’s giving you any longer, tears about to fall. You turn your head down when you speak, eyes fixated on your heels.

“You just  what ?” With his free hand, he roughly grasps the side of your face, placing his thumb under your chin and fingers through your hair to force your gaze upward. “You’re just that stupid?”

“No, no, I just had too many, I’m sorry,” Words pour out like a quiet stream. Tony’s forceful hand on your face ignited something else besides guilt or fear. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you wanted his forgiveness more than anything- for him to not see you this way. Behind Tony, the elevator closes as he keeps you against the wall. You didn’t dream of moving, anyway.

“Do you think it’s acceptable to act like that when you’re with me? Do you think I want to see other men put their hands on you?” 

“No,” you say softly, letting your eyes close.

His hand shifts, moving his fingers and thumb to your throat with just enough pressure to make you open your eyes in surprise. You wish only then that you were sober because maybe you’d be more scared instead of worked up.

“No, what?” 

His hand around your throat isn’t tight enough for you to not respond, and you know what he’s asking for regardless.

“No, sir, I’m sorry.”

Tony’s hand tightens once the words leave you, eliciting a gasp from your lips. You hear him suck in a breath at the words, his face so dangerously close to yours.

“I expect your  devotion . That doesn’t end when you leave this office, am I understood?” He draws out  devotion  like it’s not a request. The pressure on your throat, the guilt, the embarrassment, and the arousal you’re trying to ignore all come to head, forcing a tear down your cheek.

You can’t answer, as he allows too few breaths, and small gasps continue to fall from your lips. Your mind is in a million places. You want to push him off, beg for his forgiveness and cross those last few inches of distance so you could kiss him- all in the same moment. You manage to move your head slightly up and down, conveying your answer.

“I don’t think you do.” He leans forward, pressing his body against yours. You can feel his slow, heavy breaths against your gasping lips. It feels like electricity, sending goosebumps across your body. 

Before you know it, your lungs refill with air as Tony drops his hands to your waist, turning you and pushing you against the wall. It’s a sudden movement, having to extend your arms to keep from hitting your head. You attempt to straighten and turn back before Tony’s hand is pushing you into the wall. He presses into you, his body weight stopping any more attempts to move. You feel the hard member constrained by his soft suit pants against your back, pinned.

In the next second, you hear the clink of metal from Tony’s belt. You try to move again, fear working its way back up. Tony’s quick to push you fully against the wall, leaving your arms at your sides. The thud of his belt hitting the floor reverberates off the elevator walls. 

“This is what you need, isn’t it?” Tony growls while his rough hands pull your dress above your waist. He runs calloused palms over your ass, with harsh squeezes that you’re sure will leave a bruise. 

“This is what you need me to do to you?”, he doesn’t bother with your panties, tearing them and letting the ruined garment fall to the floor. Another tear flows down your cheek- whether it's from pleasure or pain, you don’t know.

You don’t resist as he pulls your arms behind your back, holding your wrists in one hand. With the other, Tony gently runs his fingers across your now exposed folds, contrasting his earlier behavior. The soft touch when you were already so worked up pulls a quiet moan from your lips. He continues his motions, touching you slowly and steadily but purposely avoiding where you needed him most. You almost hate yourself for how good he felt, how wet you were before he even touched you. The sweetness of his fingers while simultaneously keeping you pinned to the wall made you want to piss him off all over again if it meant touching you like this.

“Look how easy it is to get you like this,” He pushes two fingers into your soaking entrance, the sudden presence causing you to writhe against his restraint. He’s quick to tighten his hold, adding two more soon-to-be bruises to your wrists. The roughness returns, as he roughly pushes his fingers to your depths, only to withdraw and repeat with the same vigor. The warmth in your core is quickly built up, only making a bigger mess on his hand. 

“You just need to be used, huh?” Tony removes his fingers, an aching emptiness that he doesn’t leave you with for long. You’re mind is fixated on the pleasure, gasping against the wall as you feel the tip of his cock at your entrance. Reacting to the unexpected pressure, you try to move away again in vain. Tony’s grip keeps you in place as he sinks his cock into you without warning.

A long groan escapes Tony as he bottoms out, with his free hand holding your hip in a vice grip. He wastes no time, pulling the length of his cock before slamming it back into you again. The force leaves your mouth agape, eyes shut in a new mixture of pleasure and pain. With every rough thrust into your cunt, you cry out once he reaches your limit. He drives you into the wall with force, more of his low moans filling the air. The sound of Tony’s hips crashing into you and the wetness between you two echoes in the elevator. The fabric of his suit pants is a painful friction, making your skin feel raw. There’s nothing sweet or caring in the way he takes you- it’s clear that it’s a reminder to never fuck up like this again. 

“Do you understand now?” His violent thrusts continue, voice wavering from his own ecstasy of how good you were taking his cock. “You are mine and mine  alone .” 

“Y-yes, I understan-” , you managed to choke out.

You cry out again, a broken string of pleas and moans as he picks up his pace. Your wrists strain against the force, deepening the bruises. The aching pressure built up in your core is already becoming too much when Tony drops the hand at your wrists to reach between your legs.

Tony's fingers muse over your clit, rubbing in hard, wide circles with his thumb. His cock continues to fill every inch of your walls, fucking you with newfound vigor. You reach a hand back, aiming to slow his hips to give you any kind of respite. Instead, you find yourself simply grabbing the fabric at his waist, having no effect on his pace. The added sensation on your clit nearly sends you over again, shuddering at his touch. 

“God, Tony,” , you plea. Your head starts to spin, the knot in your stomach on overdrive. “Fuck, I’m going t-” A long, shaky moan leaves you, legs turning to liquid. 

Tony slows at your admission, an act that almost pulls another tear from you as you were so, so close. 

“Not yet.” The cold tone he uses does very little to help. 

Tony can’t resist you for long, however. Before long, he turns from rough and unyielding to slow and passionate. Hard thrusts turn into deep, careful strokes. The hand between your legs dances teasingly along slick folds. You hear his groans increase, intercut with soft praises and sighs of your name. It all tilts along the thin line of too much and not enough. 

You think you might pass out when he grabs the palm you’ve been holding at his waist, drawing soft circles over your hand while he earns another tear from you. You felt insanely desperate, lacking the focus to plead with him to just give you what you need. There was little you wouldn’t do for it at this point. If devotion was what he wanted, this was an effective way of getting it.

“Please, I can’t-” your cry is quickly interrupted, with Tony at the end of his own pleasure snapping his hips back into your cunt and flicking his fingers over your long-neglected clit.

It doesn’t take long, your body yearning for release for what felt like days. Tony brings his head to your ear, muttering about how good you were for him and how much you were his. That ends up being the final straw- your body tenses and shakes around his cock, with sobbing gasps as Tony curses and continues to thrust into you. He’s not long behind you, burying himself inside of you with a final rough push. 

Slow, shaky breaths from you both emerge until he withdraws, pulling your dress back down. When you turn, he’s already putting his belt back on, staring at you with a lustful look in his eyes as if he didn’t already fuck you. You’re silent, rubbing one hand across a sore throat.

Tony steps towards you, cupping a hand under your face before giving you a long, passionate kiss that has you aching again. When he finally pulls away, your lips are swollen.

“Glad to see you understand."

#tony stark #tony stark x reader #tw dubious consent #tw dubcon #mcu fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x you #smut #tony stark smut #dark tony stark #seikkoiwrites

[mind-travel-er]

The London Daily Ride

09:33

# Pairing: Steven Grant x female reader Jake Lockley x female reader # Synopsis: Before you know him as "Steven from the gift shop", you know him as "Steven from the bus stop". Every day, a new opportunity to discover the lovely little quirks of a stranger; becoming more and more familiar. That is, until someone else shows up. # Warning/Content: Fluff/Angst, Character Study, Accurate DID (can be triggering), Touched-starved!Steven, sex (future chapters). # Word Count: 1.3k [read me on AO3] · [next chapter]

There is comfort in being alone.

A bliss in enjoying yourself endlessly with no prying eyes. No expectations from anyone.

Yet, there’s a fine line between solitude and isolation. Withdrawal. Sometimes, you couldn’t tell the difference between the two, and occasionally, you would slip. Going to bed later than you should, burying yourself in one of your hyper-fixations. Not only avoiding social occasions, but preventing the chance to create them altogether.

Still, there is comfort in that. Even in that. Trepidation. A sheltered world you have been masterly building; the possibility of negative interactions denied at its borders. No trespassing. Only safety. That’s the bubble you’re in, that early morning on the bus. Absently seated, not even aware of your own body, since you’ve spent the last few weeks embedding your mind into passion, like a hammer on a nail, geeking out. You have no energy for anything else.

The bubble is about to burst. You don’t want that. Yet, it needs to. It needs to since, out there, strategies of coping are required. Every so often, even a disdainful look from the local cashier is all it takes to shatter to pieces. And of course, being a woman entails, before all, being sharp and quick enough to know in seconds if a stranger’s eyes should be avoided. Men’s eyes. You’ve read the statistics. Experienced some yourself. You know that even when you know them, there’s a risk.

Such is the world. And thus, such is the need for the bubble. Even when alone merges into lonely.

That’s when you see him.

Not much worth a look.

He's on the driver’s side of the standing area, seated backwards. A countercurrent. A perfect diagonal; opposing your figures. Between, the automatic gates of the bus intermittently opening and closing, as the passengers get to their destination or are entering; taking shelter from the cruel Londoner’s rain. Your eyes caught the head tilting down, as he’s clearly drowsing off, and you smile. That’s the little but meaningful details that you like to observe. When the empty interactions slip to reveal authenticity. Even for a few precious seconds.

When you lie in your bed at night, what will you remember? The day passes in a rush, always occupied or preoccupied by work. If not, responding to emails and messages, watching endless feeds on your phone. All that, the long-term memory part of your brain doesn’t care for it. It is devoid of emotions. During the night, the brain will implacably select what is worth keeping. What will you remember, in the dark of a room, after a long day?

The odd-ish, luminous, mischievous details that made you feel, you bet.

It's what makes the difference between boring repetitiveness of the days and fondness for a new one coming.

So, you observe him with new-found attention. Like witnessing a scene in a theatre. The smell of rain on coats tingling your nostrils. The tip-taping on the windows, insistently conveying a sense of shelter in your chest. Your outfit hugging your flesh into reassurance; humid vest, yet clothes underneath dry.   

Not much worth a look. It’s true. His clay-grey gabardine seems to fall too big on his shoulder, even if it isn’t. There, droplets of rain are holding on; still not quite dried. He’s dressed proper, with a shirt almost the same colour; a tad darker. Your eyes descend to his shoes. Navigator shoes. And your smile widens: Typical dad shoes, you think. They are taken care of. The leather has recently been polished, and you nod lightly in appreciation that you know isn’t needed from anyone. However, they aren’t neatly tied as one would expect. Tidy, but distracted, you deduce. Next to the paradox embedded in his shoes, a black saddleback. Effective, yet not remarkable. And you wonder if people, co-worker or friends, would state the same thing about its owner. Your eyes drag across his figure, ultimately coming back to the top. You can’t see much of his face, leaning forwards. Only his mane, a mess of brown -you can only guess- soft curls; damped by the dreadful weather of the day.

He must be narcoleptic, you deliberate. Following the movement of the bus as it takes its turns, you see his head lolling to the side; only to land on the man in his 50s seated next to him; reading a newspaper. The businessman, aquiline and imperious nose, bothers to shoot an exasperated side-eyed look. Still… he says nothing. It’s not really a kindness, but it warms your heart anyway. That alone would have sufficed to light up the coming night. It makes your smile-turned-into-grin need to be tamed. You force yourself to observe the linoleum of the bus, constellated with shoe marks brought by the heavy rain -small dull mirrors- to regain control of the muscles of your face. 

The next bus stop comes. The newspaper-man folds its adjective and gets up. The other shoots its head straight up, one eye half hooded, the other wide; a literal sketch from a comic book. Promptly, he’s apologising profusely, running on sudden adrenaline. And you notice two things: One, a lovely, distinct Londoner accent. Two, how the phrases coming out of his mouth sound a bit boyish.  "Oh sh -. Oh, So-Sorry about tha’. I didn’t mean to- I-" and he offers a contrite smile. "Don’t get much sleep is all."

And as the older man folds his copy of the London Daily, stepping out indifferently: "Y- Yeah, okay. Goodbye then.” And he waves. 

"Thanks for the shoulder!" A full chuckle is menacingly creeping up your throat, as a powerful fondness melts your core.  It’s hard not to see yourself in him. Apologising for things that aren’t really serious, or demanding one. Apologising to someone that doesn’t have the appreciation for it. Now living under your chest, something tender has made its home. Despite that, a sting. As you realise that just a few seconds after he has waved goodbye, he turns his head to consider the dreadful weather by the window and his expression falls. A disappointment of sorts, perhaps, to see the disregard in the other’s reaction. And you think again: Why can’t people just be nice? Not nice. Just decent. In the back of your mind, Humperdinck echoes the end of his refrain: "Lonely is a man without love". Any kind of love, you think. Even from a stranger.  After that, you don’t allow him out of your sight, but he doesn’t notice. His hands laying on his laps with no purpose, he looks behind him, at his right, then at his left -the empty seat-. Then, he looks up at the bus's hanging screen with narrowing eyes; mouth opened. A new stop, people in, people out. By the time he’s in your line of sight again, he has fumbled a book out from the bag near his feet, adjusting his glasses on his nose and frowning at the pages. The glasses of a librarian. Or an archivist. And you wonder again, if what you imagine somewhat defines the person he really is.

Oh, bless him, you think.

Hardly anyone reads in the bus or the train these days. Yourself included. The dopamine-inducing-apps are too hard to resist. A book always seems too much trouble, with a significant chance of missing your own stop when your brain finally settles into the reading. Instead, you much prefer observing the passers-by, searching for the details. You examine his deep frown. His ravish looks from time to time; as he must be reading a particularly interesting passage. His fingers fumbling to crook a corner, you fantasise, for him to read again later. Undeniably, if not found in others, love can be found in other passions.

And then, the realisation hits you. What you’re witnessing has an intimate familiarity. The bubble. His bubble. Laid bare for everyone to see. Yet, no one is paying attention.

No one, except you.

#steven grant #oscar isaac #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockely x you #moon knight #moon knight tv #moon knight fanfic #ao3 #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #moon knight x reader #steven grant imagine #jake lockley imagine

[putaposyinyourhair]

Slowly but Also Like All at Once

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

noah diaz x mirage (they’re def boyfriends)

warnings: goddamnit noah cheer up dude (also death/bodies mention)

mirage tones it down with the pet names but then comes in hot at the end with a big one + dad doesn’t seem to approve

“Is the rider part of Arcee?” Noah inquires, watching as the Ducati ahead navigates the curved exit ramp of the Sunrise Highway— Noah is kind of transfixed honestly, awed by the way the early morning light shines off of the pink and white finish of Arcee’s altmode.

“Nah, that’s holomatter,” Mirage reveals offhandedly.

“Holo-what?”

“It’s a projection,” the mech clarifies. “Can be light or solid. We use them to draw less attention to ourselves. Be kinda weird to see a bike drive itself, right?”

Noah nods. Definitely weird. His lips pout to one side, watching Arcee and mulling over the idea of hologram-like projections for a moment before he starts, wide gaze flashing down to Mirage’s radio.

“Wait, can you do that?” he questions pointedly.

“Yep,” Mirage pops the ‘p’ cheerfully, before his radio makes a small, muted buzzing sound. “Well… I used to.”

Noah stills.

“My projector was damaged pretty badly after Peru,” Mirage admits softly, kind of wistfully. “I can project light. I mean, sorta. It doesn’t last very long and it’s really buggy but…”

The mech trails off for a moment.

“I can’t do solid anymore,” he confesses finally, faintly.

Noah sinks into the seat, forced down by the sudden, all-encompassing guilt.

Shit.

“Ratchet tried to fix it but it’s just one of those things, y’know?” Mirage goes on, his pitch rising in volume as if in response to Noah’s physical reaction to his admission. “Bumblebee can’t talk. I can’t use holoforms. No biggie.”

The bot isn’t a very good liar, Noah realizes.

He has zero doubt in his mind that losing a piece of yourself like that has got to be terrible. But he’s not going to acknowledge that out loud though. Not when it’s probably his fault.

Damn it.

The inward confession makes his chest sting.

Noah shakes his head, not wanting to think on it anymore. He’s already cried once. He’s not about to do it again. Mirage is going to start thinking he’s some kind of giant wuss or something.

He sucks in a sharp breath and forces himself to lift and drop a shoulder.

“Who needs hologram—form…things,” he stammers out a bit awkwardly. “When you’re already cool as fuck anyway, dude.”

Mirage chuckles, the sound vibrating through the seat beneath Noah. The leather warms up for a moment and Noah realizes that comfort is exactly what that sensation is supposed to convey.

He’s just not sure it’s working this time around.

The seconds crawl by and neither of them moves to speak again and so they fall into a strange, sort of unsettling silence. Noah, for as much as he tries to not think about it, can only do just that; stew in the guilt.

Because it is his fault.

Mirage had almost died for him.

Mirage had to be rebuilt and repaired from practically the ground up because of him.

Mirage had lost parts of himself because of Noah.

Noah’s a walking, talking hazard around the mech.

He frowns, pulling his feet up onto the seat so he can wrap his arms around his legs and curl into himself— ignoring the way the seatbelt kind of digs into the skin of his neck. In the distance, amidst fog and cloud-cover, he can see Manhattan’s skyscrapers reaching for the heavens.

“Hey, Noah?”

He glances down at the radio— it’s backlight cycling through a few different colors; blue, yellow, green, and red, before it settles on its usual light blue.

“I’d do it all over again in a sparkbeat, y’know,” Mirage claims boldly. “If it meant keeping you safe.”

Noah’s eyes widen so quickly, he half expects his eyeballs to drop right out of his head for a moment. His breath catches in his throat and his chest heaves— his heart stuttering over a couple beats.

Oh, fuck.

Noah’s not one hundred percent sure, but he remembers Mirage once saying, ‘Cross my spark, hope to die,’ and so he assumes it to be the cybertronian version of a heart.

The declaration is… overwhelming, to say the least. In a good way.

But also in a way that Noah feels he is undeserving of.

It compels his own heart to keep pounding away, essentially doing somersaults underneath his ribcage. Which— under the recent revelation that Mirage can actually feel it thumping away— is embarrassing as all shit. But Noah can’t help it.

He’d do it all over again.

Noah doesn’t think Mirage even realizes how much that one sentence means. Or maybe he does. And he actually means it. Noah hopes that’s not true.

He never wants Mirage to do it again.

The radio warbles and Noah watches the backlight flicker again.

“Mirage,” Arcee’s voice comes through, clear and urgent. “We’re needed back at base-ops stat.”

Immediately, Mirage groans— in a long and suffering kind of way that reminds Noah of Kris every time he starts whining about how he still can’t get past Bowser.

“I’m gettin’ my aft chewed out for breems,” Mirage gripes with a sharp huff. “Fraggin’ Ratchet, man. Messin’ with my game. What a hater.”

Noah has no idea what half those words mean but he’s pretty sure he understands the gist of it all.

Which is why he isn’t all that surprised when, instead of driving back into Brooklyn, Arcee leads the way north into Queens and then across the East River into the Bronx.

Noah shifts quietly in his seat.

His ma’s gonna be so mad when he does eventually make his way home. He hasn’t checked in with her for hours, which is unlike him. And Breanna Diaz don’t play when it comes to her kids.

But at the same time, he thinks he can understand the sort of urgency a call from Optimus Prime himself might instill in the autobots.

Both he and Mirage are silent as they make their way into a neighborhood of the Bronx known as City Island— a fitting name. At this point, the sun has risen high up into the sky and the inhabitants of City Island are starting to slowly make their way outside in preparation for another day.

Arcee and Mirage pull into what looks like some kind of junkyard marina at the far end of the island, where old boats have been left to rust in every corner of the property, shadowed by dilapidated warehouses. At the water’s edge, a rickety dock bobs in response to the waves below it.

Noah reaches out and white-knuckles the Porsche’s door handle as Arcee and Mirage roll slowly over the surprisingly sturdy wooden slats of the dock. There’s an antiquated ferry at the end, and Noah does his best to hold in a frightened little yelp when both bots lift off the dock— only half-transforming for a second— so they can step onto the ferry.

Once they’re safely aboard, Arcee’s holoform swings her leg over the Ducati and heads off— Noah assumes to start up the ferry.

“You want out?” Mirage inquires, the driver side door popping open with a muted click.

Noah bites into his bottom lip, thinking for a moment. He thinks he knows exactly where they’re heading.

Hart Island is located just to the east of City Island. It’s a place that’s pretty much synonymous with death, with deserted buildings from different eras lying in an array of ruins all over it— the island having been left abandoned to its’ own destruction since the late seventies.

Honestly, it’s kind of the perfect place for the autobots to hide out.

Noah’s not going to lie and say that it doesn’t freak him out though. Supposedly, there’s thousands of bodies buried in the ground at Hart Island.

So he shakes his head and shimmies away from the open door— not ready to step out quite yet. Mirage quickly closes it with another soft click.

“Okay,” he acknowledges. “I gotchu.”

Noah decides he really needs his friend to stop reminding him of that fact.

He knows.

The ferry sputters to life beneath them and after a moment, it rocks forward— pulling away from the dock lazily.

Noah inhales deeply then blows it out through his nose. And forces himself to think about something else, anything else— aside from the fact that he’s currently on a rusting metal death trap headed towards a possibly haunted island to face alien life forms that probably don’t even like him.

His distraught gaze lands on the Ducati parked off to the Porsche’s right.

“Arcee help you sneak out?” he questions. If a holoform is needed to operate the ferry, it has to be the only explanation. Right?

“Yeah,” Mirage admits, but not like he’s shy about it— more like he’s proud of it. “She’s a real G.”

Noah can’t help the smile the words pull from him.

He’s glad that, despite what he thinks is a clear disdain for him on the part of Optimus, Arcee doesn’t seem to hold any negative opinions when it comes to Noah.

He knows Optimus sees him— them, humans— in a different light now. That the battle in Peru— and both Noah and Elena’s drive to fight for their planet— had changed the giant mech’s opinion of the human race.

But the surly leader of the autobots had only begrudgingly allowed Noah to try and fix Mirage, at first, at the behest of Arcee and Bumblebee. When he’d failed, Optimus had been quick to change his mind, quick to take Mirage away.

Leaving Noah wondering, for months, if he’d ever see his friend again. His best friend, probably.

He’s quickly starting to realize Mirage means that much to him.

“Aw, scrap,” Mirage grumbles suddenly, his altmode shuddering slightly around Noah.

Noah looks up from the steering wheel— from the spot he’d been staring at whilst in his head— to see another dock gradually approaching. Rusting, multi-colored shipping containers stacked at its edge, providing cover for the two autobots standing just beyond them; Optimus Prime and an unfamiliar blue and white autobot with a star of life insignia across his chest plates.

Noah assumes he must be the infamous hater; Ratchet. An immediate thought tickles at the back of Noah’s mind as he recalls his first contact with the autobots in that warehouse months ago.

He frowns.

“How’s Ratchet ‘round humans?” he asks warily, just as the ferry gently bumps into the edge of the dock, their short trip across the water coming to a, thankfully, safe end.

Mirage’s radio drones out a low buzzing sound and Noah takes it for exactly what it is: Ratchet is not a fan of Earth’s native species.

“It’s okay, though!” Mirage advises him cheerily as Noah watches Arcee’s holoform return. “I got your back, bro.”

Noah isn’t all that convinced. Not that he doesn’t trust Mirage or anything.

And it must show on his face because as soon as they’re off the ferry— Mirage gently pushing him out of the Porsche’s cabin, so he can transform into his natural rootmode, Arcee doing the same beside them— he leans down closer to Noah, who is staring up at the clear disapproval on the faces of both Optimus and Ratchet.

“He’s not as mean as he looks, I swear,” Mirage testifies in what Noah thinks is supposed to be a whisper but is clearly heard by the others, including Ratchet who scowls at Mirage. “I won’t let him mess witchu, cariño.”

Noah absolutely freezes.

… what.

#noah x mirage #norage #noah diaz #mirage #mirage rotb #transformers rise of the beasts #transformers rotb #mirage x noah

[gingerlurk]

Lovers' Crest | Chapter 20: The Confessional II

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Din has left it all too late as his fears are realised.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), post season 3, Mo blood, injured Reader, Hurt/Comfort (if I have ever written a self-indulgent hurt/comfort fic in my life, it’s this chapter), lots of feelings.

A/N: We're nearly there, omg. Every single one of you who's joined me on this journey and let me know you're enjoying this story, you're SO wonderful. Thanks for reading!

--

Din rips at your flight harness, nearly pulling it from the seat in the effort to get you up. He shouts your name but you’re limp and silent, lifeless. Grogu watches with wide horrified eyes as Din hauls you, limbs dangling, into his arms. 

He yells to R5 to keep the ship on an even keel.

‘Grogu. With me. We need. Lay her down.’ He grunts out the words in stuttered bursts of breath, moving to the door.

‘Pah!’ Still in his pod, the baby unbuckles to follow the hulking shape of Din carrying you through the cockpit, dropping into the hold, across to the cabin. He floats into the cabin behind the frantic Mandalorian and your unconscious form, hovering nervously and murmuring as his father lays you down before turning to him. 

Din lifts Grogu from the pod.

He settles the child next to you, by your hip so his little hands are just in reach of the wound, and seats himself on your other side – framing you between the two of them. He takes out a small knife and slices away your leather tunic to expose the short metal object that Grogu spotted when you had leaned back in your cockpit chair. It is pulsing with a low hum and the skin around the foreign object is riddled with gooseflesh. Sweat pools across the plains of your abdomen and in the hollow of your neck. You shudder. 

‘Grogu,’ Din hovers above you both. He takes one, steadying breath. ‘I need you to be strong for her now.’ 

He points to the small hilt sticking from your middle. Grogu murmurs, gazing between it and Din with unease.

‘This is a phase blade,’ he explains. ‘It is an ultrafine weapon that a war trooper must have slipped in when she was fighting. She would have barely noticed it going in, but now it is buried deep and is making her bleed inside her body. Do you understand what I mean by that, Grogu?’

‘Ebbe?’

‘It’s hurting her inside her body where we can’t see. And if I start to pull it from her, it will activate an energy field that is going to make it worse, more bleeding, more damage inside of her.’

His voice cracks for a moment. He blinks back tears from behind his helmet, seeing the charts on his vision array showing your staccato heart rate and plunging BP blur and distort. He shakes his head and focuses on the child’s face. 

‘It’s designed that way, d’you understand?’ he goes on. ‘They use it to kill even after a battle ends. It’s impossible to remove without killing her.’

Grogu gives a little wail of despair, leaning into your limp form.

‘But y’can save her, buddy.’

‘Eeeh?’ Din’s son gives him a disbelieving look. He really doesn’t know - how powerful he is?

‘Remember Greef Karga?’ he says, leaning closer to the tiny child. ‘Remember the creature’s attack on Navarro? You saved him. You can save her.’

From where you lay, you convulse slightly and thick blood oozes across your hip and onto the bed. Your chest rises in shallow, hyperventilating breaths. His voice gets urgent.

‘You’re stronger now than you were then, so much stronger. You can do this. As I draw out the blade… heal her as it goes. Make the bleeding and the hurt stop. Can you do that?’ 

The baby’s ears twitch as he looks up to where your head lays lolled on its side. He looks terrified.

‘Please, kid,’ the desperation in Din’s voice pulls Grogu’s eyes back to him. ‘Please, you have to do this, I need h—’

Fuck, take a breath, Fuck.

‘I need you to try your best.’

Grogu seems to steel himself. He reaches out and presses both hands to your entry wound. Din takes the petite hilt of the blade in hand and braces a forearm against your ribcage. He watches as the child closes both gigantic eyes and focuses, tilting his head progressively up and up like he’s summoning the universe to him. Din observes his breathing pick up and his little forehead scrunch tight. 

‘Ehhhhh,’ Grogu looks pained, straining. His little mouth opens and closes a few times before settling into a hard frown. Then, without opening his eyes, he gives one tiny resolute nod.

Din takes a long breath in and counts… three, two…  

He pulls.

‘Hhhhrrrrrngh!’ You wail and arch off the mattress, pushing into Din’s forearm with a surprising force. He leans forward to put more weight on you and grips the blade tighter. It’s barely moved a millimetre but you and Grogu are both shaking violently. 

Just keep going. Stay steady.

Another pull and hot crimson spurts from the wound, splashing across the view of his visor. You jerk as if struck, arching again. His grip slips off the hilt. Panic rises. He feels like he might black out. Flushing hot and cold, the air in his lungs turning icy and his blood setting to boil.

Furious regret tears at him. Worlds, curse him. He’s wasted so much time. Holding onto the hurt, onto the shame, and the anger. Why? Why couldn’t he have let go sooner. Why couldn’t he have just talked to you. If he’d just tried. Just understood you better.

Fucking focus.

Retaking the handle, he channels everything down to his hand and the blade. It’s not you he’s killing right now; it’s just his hand and this blade. That’s all it is. His hand, this blade, he chants it over and over as more of the quivering weapon comes free.

His hand, this blade. His hand, this blade. His hand, this cursed, evil, fucking, going to kill his--

The weapon draws out, deactivating the second it breaks contact with flesh. Din hurls it into a med tin and shakes his hand, as if to get the menace off him. He looks back to you, reads your still sporadic vitals. Your lips are white and you’re puffing hard through clenched teeth. Your wound is still leaking blood. Too much blood.

He’s on the verge of weeping. But he concentrates instead on Grogu, whose claws are sunk deep into your skin as he continues shaking and grunting. The child is giving everything he has. 

Din Djarin looks between the two of you. His whole fucking world. He’s losing a part of it. Maybe for good this time. He’s been so foolish. 

Fresh tears come. His vision shifts out of focus and, instead of your two quivering bodies, he sees the spray of blood across his visor. Your blood. A wretched reminder of how tortured he’s been since you returned. Empty while you were gone, he’s been on fire from the moment you looked at him as you stood at that damned forge saying you’d fight for them. Each time he’d watched you from afar, desperate to go to you but drilled to the spot, it burned. His desire to see you, to actually see you. 

It’s time. It might be too damn late, but it’s time. 

He reaches and pulls his helmet up, off. Deposits it over you onto the bed. He sits back and puts a hand to Grogu’s back and the other to your uninjured side, drawing the two of you together, holding you as close as he is able.

Whatever happens, he needs to hold you both close, for as long as he can.

‘Come on, Grogu,’ Din leans in. ‘You can do this, you can. You’re so strong, stronger than any—’

Grogu gives a long pained sigh of effort and flops forward, head resting next to the spot where – thank all the worlds – your wound has closed over into a puckered, angry looking scar. Your breathing is evening out and you slowly come to stillness.

Even as the child lays there wheezing, the wound continues to lighten and shrink, the connection between you and he potent and enduring.

Din becomes aware of his own hammering heart, his staggered breathing. Sighing out every ounce of fear and panic that had consumed him these past few minutes, he looks at you. 

He gives himself a moment to take you in. Traces the side profile of your face where your head has turned away. Relishes in the way your eyelashes flutter, and your lower lip quivers a little. The way you’re breathing more normally with each passing moment. 

He gives himself a moment to think about the colour of your eyes, wonders if his visor’s vision array has ever truly conveyed their beauty.

Then he gives his son a reassuring pat.

Grogu’s eyes slip open and he looks at his father in wonder. Din smiles.

--

It’s so much pain. 

Great crumbling walls of it. Savage spikes impaling your very core. You fall back away from it, toward some dense murky nothingness. That’s what you’re aiming for – just for the relief – when something else reaches down and wraps around you. A coil of earnest embrace. A branch of tender love. It takes hold and gives a single strong entreaty. Come back. As it strengthens its hold, the excruciation eases. The agony releases.

And so you turn back.

Push through a dense fog, swim back to consciousness. It feels endless. White haze claws at you, but the warm light waits not far away. You drag yourself to it. It takes effort. So much effort. You have to call on the weary presence within you to rise up, haul on it like a rope out of there. Reaching, grasping, breaking the surface tension with a long, strained inhale.

The first thing you sense is Din’s voice.

‘Sshh, cyar’ika,’ he’s whispering. ‘That’s it, take it slow. There’s no hurry.’

You hear yourself groan then. Feel filtered cabin air settle on your skin. Smell earthy sweat and the tang of blood, and under those something achingly known. More out of curiosity than any desire to expose them to light, you blink one eye open a little, then the other. And then you feel confusion. Because through blurred eyesight, what you see makes no sense. With your head rolled to the side, you’re looking at the unoccupied half of the bed. Except it’s not totally unoccupied.

Maybe you haven’t woken up, after all.

Din’s helmet rests on the blankets. Empty and cold, no life behind the visor. 

You sense him sitting on your other side. Hear his steady inhales and exhales, clear and unmodulated. Feel the heat of his thigh pressed into your side. 

‘Din?’ you say, voice croaky and weak, still staring at the lone helmet. You can’t bring yourself to move, to turn. You can only raise a shaky hand to press a finger to the cool metal. A flood of feeling at the contact you’ve ached for, you trace over it, follow the streak of dried blood spattered there. Draw a thumb down the high arch of its side. A caress you’ve longed for.

‘I’m here,’ he says.

‘You’re not…’ Still looking at the helmet. You notice his gloves and gauntlets also discarded on the bed. ‘You’re…’

‘It’s okay,’ he says, throaty and barely above a whisper. ‘You can look.’

‘Are you,’ you struggle to keep tears from blurring your sight even more. Blink hard to clear them, hiss in a breath. ‘Are you s- sure?’

The sensation of two fingers gently pressing to your cheek makes you gasp. If you weren’t already lying down, you’re sure you’d collapse. You screw your eyes shut again as, with a tender push, he tilts your head to turn to him. 

He sighs, pulls his hand away. ‘Please,’ he rasps. ‘Let me see you.’

Come on, you tell yourself. This is all you’ve ever wanted.

So you focus where you think his hands will be, likely resting in his lap. You blink a little when you see them there – those strong, capable hands. Thick fingers, veins tracing over knuckles, over his wrists, and up to where his forearm disappears into a sleeve. You follow that up to one shoulder, dart from it across to the other. No pauldrons. Land in between. No cuirass. 

In your peripheral vision, above the chest you’re staring hard at, you register dark hair framing indistinct features. Dark hair you already know to curl around his ears and fan over his forehead, from touching him blind and from that one scant glimpse before the battle. You’d been so eager then. So desperate. And now…

He murmurs your name. ‘Look at me, please.’

Tracing the line of his neck, the edge of his jaw, you sweep your eyes up to meet Din’s. 

A plush lower lip purses just a little, as he releases a breath like he’d held it his whole life. You struggle to breathe at all, drinking in the glorious sight. Lungs burn as you slot each tiny detail into the image in your head. There’s so much to take in, but his eyes… My gods, his eyes.

Deep, and dark, and bottomless. They match his voice so perfectly, that velvety timbre you know so well, you’re amazed you hadn’t known their hue and tone all along.

He gazes back, absorbing you. Irises like onyx marbles roll over your face, opening you up and exposing you completely. Tears start to threaten you again just from the sheer overwhelming sensation of making eye contact with Din.

‘Mmm, weh,’ a gentle murmur pierces the spell, has you glancing down.

‘Baby, hey,’ you whisper to Grogu, who’s tucked into your hip squinting up at you. You prop yourself on an elbow. ‘Oh, you look so tired. Why aren’t you resting?’

‘He’s been waiting,’ Din says, drawing your eyes back to his, where you struggle not to get lost in their fathoms again. Gods, this is the face of the Gods. ‘To make sure you’re alright.’

You look back to the child, whose own huge eyes blink languidly. You can see the effort he’s making to keep them open. You remember then, what he did. Grogu reaching for you as you sunk into a murky oblivion. Giving you the life raft to let you drag your way back. Saving you.

‘Hey, kiddo,’ you reach over and let him take hold of a forefinger with his little claw. Enclose it with a thumb. ‘See? I’m okay now. I’m okay.’

‘Emm?’

‘Yeah, you did good. You can rest now. Thank you.’

Grogu gives a lazy nod of his head, exhaling and cooing to the two of you. He pushes himself up and moves toward his pod, tentative little steps and huffs of air until he’s seated comfortably among the blankets. Pawing at the controls, he drifts out of the cabin and you listen for the shift of his hatch, open and then close.

Moving the hand he’d grasped to rest on your stomach, you feel it. Raised skin, threaded and uneven. Fingers trace back and forth over the new scar.

‘What was that? What happened to me?’ you ask, gazing up at the man sitting beside you, at his soft mouth, his sharp nose, his knit-together brow – his gorgeous features. 

A shadow crosses them as Din leans down and picks up a little metal tray. A tiny hilt with no blade rattles inside it. He lets you get a look at it before tossing it back on the floor like it’s tainted. You suppose it is.

‘Fuck,’ you huff an exhale, lean back. ‘Dicey.’

‘That would be putting it fucking mildly,’ he says, glaring at the offending weapon. How had you failed to notice a damned phase blade? When did it even happen? What would have happened to you if Din hadn’t— If he hadn’t been with you? You pull in a long breath of air.

‘How many times is it you’ve saved my life now?’ you ask. 

Eyes so soft and deep lock onto yours. You’re not prepared. They’re so expressive, you can read every single ounce of feeling in them. Longing, and fear, and some deep sad pain that breaks you wide open right from your chest.

The swell of emotion rises so swift it chokes you and slurs your words. But you force them out. As fast as you’re able over the short shallow panting that starts ramping up a staccato beat.

‘I’m sorry,’ you gasp. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Gods. Din, I’m so- s- I—'

He’s leaning in, head shaking just a little.

‘I was scared,’ you push on, words bursting out over rising sobs. It’s been too much. It’s been too long. ‘I was just so fucking sc- scared. And confused. And like I was just lost? I’m sorry, fuh, ah, I’m so--’

‘Stop,’ he speaks over you. ‘Stop, please.’ 

But you can’t. You can’t stop. The dam you’ve been straining against dissolves into a torrent. Chest heaving and hands shaking, you scrunch your eyes shut and weep.

It’s when Din bends forward and takes your face in his hands, swipes a thumb over a tear-streaked cheek and whispers, ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ that you still. At the sound of your name, murmured and desperate, you open your eyes to see his own just inches away.

‘I understand,’ he says, looking right through you, brows pulled in and expression pleading. ‘I understand now.’

He holds you there for a long, agonising stretch. Faces so close your breaths merge, brush against the cooling moisture on your skin. It’s when your mouth parts just a little, and his gaze drops there for a second, that he seems to return to himself and sits back.

Bereft for a moment, caught off guard by how just a few moments of his touch has your body thrumming, you stay quiet. You lay still and watch him gather himself, readying his words. You know this posture, know what it looks like when he’s preparing to open up. The added details of his jaw working and forehead creasing in contemplation are not lost on you – in fact, they put your heart in your throat. Yet still, in this moment, you have no idea what he’s going to say. 

Sure enough, his words take you out.

‘A while ago,’ he says. ‘Through a misstep in fate, I possessed a weapon that could have allowed me to rule Mandalore. As Bo-Katan does now.’

This out-of-nowhere revelation has you asking before you can think, ‘Why didn’t you? Why aren’t you?’

‘Well, among many other reasons,’ he makes a gesture like politics and such. With a head tilt you know well, you nearly die to learn it comes with a single eyebrow arched high in sardonic humour. You feel giddy, but keep still and listen. ‘It was… heavy,’ he continues, expression dropping to neutral again. ‘Too heavy. Being a part of my Covert is about belonging. But this was something different. I did not have the want to carry that weight. To be pulled down. Bound.’

The word pierces right through your chest. ‘Bound?’

It’s a tiny squeak, the way you say it. Bursting out of you as you see him in all new light. Familiar light. He moves a hand over you to touch your forearm, strokes there in comfort – a reflex that he doesn’t seem to make note of. It makes your skin sing. 

‘Mmhm,’ he says, looking at you. ‘The thing you fear? I understand it. I should’ve understood it all along, but I was blinded by—’ He cuts himself off, swallows hard. 

‘Anyway, I am sorry for that,’ he says, whispering your name again. ‘I am so, so sorry.’

You’re trying to find the words to say he has nothing to be sorry for. To tell him you’d carried remorse and guilt with you across most of the galaxy. That you’d do anything to go back to before that cursed day and talk to him. Tell him these things before it had all become too late. But he continues before you can. 

‘And I’m sorry that I have been… since you got here, that I’ve…’

‘It’s okay,’ you say, when you see him struggling to keep going.

‘It’s not,’ he says. ‘It’s not okay, I was just- Shit, I was just so furious…’

‘I know,’ you murmur, ready to accept this and beg forgiveness. ‘I know you were angry with me, and, and I underst—’

‘I wasn’t angry with you,’ he interrupts.

‘But I- I hurt you so badly, I--’ you say, unable to believe him. Tears encroach again. ‘And- and I was here and you weren’t, and I didn’t know if you’d ever speak to me again, and I--' 

‘I was hurting, that’s true,’ he says, warm hand continuing its motions on your arm. It hasn’t stopped for one second. ‘But so were you. And I wasn’t angry with you.’

‘What?’

He leans the elbow of the arm not caressing yours on a knee, shifts a little closer. Drawing a deep breath to speak, he gives you another wounded look. An intense wave of gooseflesh ripples over you.

‘You being here,’ he says. ‘I couldn’t stand it.’

You must look fit to break because he rushes on. 

‘You being here, in danger. From the moment you stood in front of everyone and said you’d fight, I’ve been,’ he drags a hand through mussed curls, searches for words, ‘drowning, in fury and fear. When you told us your plan for the walker… Fuck-- I was livid.’

Paying attention to the tender muscles in your abdomen, you nudge yourself upright. Shuffle a little until you’re sitting up facing him, drawn in by what he’s saying.

‘That’s what you were angry about?’ you ask. ‘That I came back to fight?’

He shakes his head. ‘I was angry that you were risking your life. That you wanted to fight our battles. That they were letting you. After what I did? How I let you go?’

Din stops there for a moment, works his jaw some more and swallows like he’s trying to not choke. Grips your arm hard. He looks tortured.

‘I should never have let it get to that moment by the forge, that day you left,’ he whispers, voice tight and just under control. ‘But I wasn’t, wasn’t paying attention. I was so afraid… The idea of you in a war that wasn’t yours to fight… All I could think about was how I could protect you. If I even could.’ 

His eyes are glossy as they stare over your shoulder. Your fingers itch to touch him. ‘And when you did run… I thought at least, at least you’d be safer that way.’ 

Din takes a sharp hiss through clenched teeth.

‘But I was a fool,’ he says. ‘To not realise that whether you had run that day or not, you still would have ended up here, because of your bravery, and loyalty. Because of me. And I couldn’t stop it-- I couldn’t-- Fuck.' He lets go of you to drop his head into both hands. ‘And you almost just fucking died, right here-- All my fears were—'

This time you’re the one reaching out, clutching at arms and wrists and trying to shush and still him. You lift his head and you’re inches apart again. You mutter at him to look at you, look right here, I’m okay … Just look. I’m here.

He sighs hard and stares. Tears shining in the corners of his eyes, they shift back and forth across your face. Your fingers tingle where they dig into his hair. Heart thunders. A white hot current crackles through your arms and across your chest, sends sparks up the back of your neck. 

‘I’m here,’ you say again, voice breaking only a little.

‘You’re here,’ he whispers back. As he calms, clenched jaw relaxing, he leans into one of your palms. Just a little, without breaking eye contact. Although you do see, for the barest second, a soft pink tongue dart out to swipe his lower lip.

But he doesn’t move, just keeps looking at you – waiting for you to choose what to do next.

It’s not that you don’t want to keep holding him like this, to pull him closer, wrap yourself around him entirely. Not let go. It’s not that you wouldn’t give anything in the galaxy to simply press your forehead to his, nudge his nose with yours, press your mouth to—

It’s just that you’re on a threshold you’re not yet ready to step over. There’s things you want to say first. Answers you still need. Somehow, doubt there still about whether he wants the same thing.

So you pull back. Not much. Just enough to bring his features into focus again. Drop your hands to rest between you. He seems to will himself to relax and settle back as well, understanding the air between you is a volatile thing, and you should move forward carefully.

Into the silence, picking at the covers on the bed, you do let a little insecurity out. Just let yourself say it.

‘Well, here for as long as I’m allowed to be anyway,’ you mumble, hoping it conveys the question you’re too afraid to ask. Can I stay?

Din doesn’t say anything at first, but his eyes roam over you and you have to fight not to squirm under his gaze. Not react to the heat it’s building within you.

He moves a hand to you again and that heat flares. But rather than touching you, he lands it on the armour guard still clipped to your shoulder. A piece of the set the Armourer had had made for you.

‘You have come to be more accepted here than you realise,’ he says. You sense his thumb tracing back and forth over a specific spot, a tender caress. Tilting your head to the side to try to see, you can just make out a scorched tear where an enemy weapon must have grazed over the leather – and the dark grey steel underneath it.

‘What?’ You move your hand across as Din fluidly unclasps the piece so you can take hold of it and get a proper look.

Cradling it, you gaze up in disbelief. 

‘Beskar?’

‘Mmhm,’ he affirms. You look back down, draw your own thumb over the split to feel the cold bite of sacred steel.

‘I don’t understand.’ Tears prickle your eyes. One falls to land on Din’s thumb where it has come to rest over yours. He palms it into a fist, draws it back.

‘You will,’ he replies, voice soft. ‘Soon. There’s things for you to know, when we return to the Covert.’

His tone draws you from the shoulder piece back to his face – he’s nervous, hesitant, trying to not spook the wild thing before him.

The you of several months ago would have let what he just said set you on a panic spiral. Let it burrow into all your insecurities and trauma. Let it put a wall around you.

But the you of right now fends it off, reminding yourself that the price was just too damn high. The cost of giving in to fear and paranoia would end up destroying you. You know this now. Just trust him, you tell yourself. Remember what he said. Just be patient.

So you give a nod, an acknowledgement that you’ll wait to learn more. He relaxes a little.

Still, you have to work to not fret about what’s to come. So in the quiet that follows, your mind wanders back to the battle instead. Scenes and snippets dance across your consciousness. One thing jumps out at you, and you blurt it out.

‘Hey, why’d your jetpack cut out?’ you ask. He starts at your sudden turn in this conversation, but goes with it.

He looks embarrassed though. ‘Um, that’s…’ he mumbles, rubs palms together. ‘It’s only really powerful enough to carry just the one… person.’

‘Ah, too much weight?’ you ask.

At his chagrined look, a short laugh bursts out of you – breathy and full of relief. In response, Din smiles, with lips curving and teeth showing. The sight punches the air from your lungs.

‘Guess I’ll have to see about an upgrade,’ he says dryly.

Hells, and you’re gonna let that sit with you for a bit.

More bits come back. The miraculous course of events is overwhelming now that adrenaline and shock aren’t flooding your system.

‘And how would you have taken out Cephlate’s ship if I wasn’t here?’ you wonder aloud. ‘If I was still on the ground with…’

‘I don’t know,’ he admits. ‘I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.’

‘You had the second controls installed…’ Din shrugs, tips his chin and looks up at the ceiling, you see the faintest crawl of a blush on his neck. It’s charming as hell.

‘Let’s call it… hopeful planning,’ he offers. ‘I wanted to be prepared for anything.’

‘You were,’ you breathe. ‘You always are.’ He smiles again. You could get so used to that.

Another question bubbles up, but Din senses it and shushes you.

‘We can do a full forensic later – and talk more, I swear. But I think we’re about to—’ R5’s binary burbles a warning over the ship intercom. ‘Run low on fuel,’ Din finishes. 

He examines you with an ‘okay to move?’ kind of expression and you nod.

As you each move to stand, careful to give space to the other, the sensations of your body rush into your awareness. Unpleasant, irritated, and clammy.

You stop in the doorway, turn back. ‘Um, D- Din?’

He straightens from collecting his helmet and turns to you, listening.

‘When we’ve landed, can I-- would there be time for me to…’ You raise an arm covered in dried blood to rub it across your neck, caked in dust. Drop it to the cut-away hole exposing your abdomen, also bloody. Dither before thinking hells with it. Just ask. ‘Would it be okay for me to use the fresher quick?’ You mumble it out in a rush. Grubby and self-conscious. ‘I just…’

‘Of course,’ he says, voice a low rumble. ‘Anything.’

Not long later, you stand under the warm stream of water revelling in the sensation. You know you don’t have much time, but you linger long enough to feel yourself seeping back into your skin. Coming home. Rivulets of cleansing moisture travel down your body, as you let the dirt and the blood and the months on months of heartbreak wash off and away.

--

Prev | Next

#din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin/reader #din djarin/you #the mandaloria/reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader

[minjoonalist]

Alexithymia. | JJK +18 [2 of 3]

Pairing: Demon!Jungkook x Reader 

Rating: Mature +18

Genre: Angst, Smut, SoulmatesAU

Word count: 15.8k

Description: Jungkook always had a pull to you. An unexplainable connection that brings him to your side daily, like a permanent routine.  Is it a hobby? An obsession? Or was the centuries old prince just bored? No… boredom doesn’t make his heart race. It’s not supposed to make him lose his own self control, or fill him with blinding rage, and it certainly isn’t supposed to have him hallucinating the strangest things until it drives him back home for answers. Maybe he just cares too much for you and he thought that it’d be better to wait than to give in, but the longer the prince of darkness spends his time away, the more he realizes he has absolutely no Idea what emotions have been festering since the very beginning. What if he could just turn them off? 

Warnings: Cursing, explicit language, mentions of blood, black blood, mentions of killing, priceless object is broken, sadistic friends, slight back stabbing (metaphorical) but its out of good?? intent, lots of sexual tension, mentions of suicide, heavy make out, eventual smut.

Song Inspo: Pretty- The Weeknd, Waves- Normani, Softcore- The Neighbourhood, Middle Of The Night- Elley Duhe

Author’s note:  This is a mini series of three parts due to the high word count lol Also In no way am I an expert on demons, all of this is from the top of my head or made up honestly. It’s more of an angsty self-indulgent plot to write demon JK for (several months) so please enjoy and if you want leave your thoughts on it as well! :)

Masterlist | 1 2 3

II. Emotional Deficit

“Welcome back.” 

He hates that he’s hearing those words. It’s irritating at most but still, Jungkook couldn’t be happier when they’re coming from the two people he needed to see at this moment.

Sitting within their private room for the first time in years, he finds himself residing in the dual leather seats of their luxurious common space. The area itself was darker than he remembered of the two, the atmosphere closing in the second you found yourself there but somehow still inviting enough that you didn’t want to leave. They clearly changed a lot over the time he hadn’t been around.

 It's funny how much effort went into making it this way when the owners hate to have company. Jungkook thinks to himself as he shifts to get him comfortable within his tense position. Honestly, his back was still killing him and he felt as if he was running out of breath more often.

He’s really a dumbass for fighting Yoongi.

Jungkook suddenly clears his throat as he thinks about that-staring at the hard wood floors where his boots lay before he glances at the blood red hair falling messily around one of the judging couple’s heads.

 “Hi Jimin and…-Hobi Hyung.” Jungkook’s awkwardness shows through his uncomfortable stature, temporarily looking elsewhere to hide his slight embarrassment.

His body is stiff and frozen like ice while two pairs of naturally alluring eyes stare him down within the secluded room. It made him feel even more on edge than before, itching to go back to your apartment where he hopes you’re sleeping safely.

Right, Jungkook felt even more embarrassed, thinking about you…

He couldn’t believe how much of a coward he was when he left you standing there before, but sadly the reason he was here couldn’t be ignored if he’s going to be able to stand in the same room as you again. 

Unsurprisingly, the man had given up, showing up to those that could possibly understand the foreign emotions that were tearing him apart. Not only that but he refused to give Yoongi any satisfaction in knowing he was somewhat right, probably predicting that the youngest would make his way back home at some point. 

Jungkook clearly didn’t notice it for himself, but then again he didn’t notice a lot of his behavior that was gradually building up over the years.

Hoseok, after giving Jungkook a once over, arches a thick brow and runs a slender hand through his tapered jet black hair before he adjusts his black shirt. His legs then cross within his slacks putting on a professional position as he leans back within a leather chair in his common room. It was strange how serious he looked, completely opposite of his joyous nature, so Jungkook knew a topic like this had to be as important to his brother as it was to himself. 

He wasn’t sure what exactly he was in for, but if it meant getting back to you faster he’s willing to put up with it. Not only that, but putting an end to this torture that was plaguing his body and mind at the moment.

He can still feel what he was feeling before…it hasn’t gone away. 

Jungkook then swallows, feeling on edge as he watches Jimin come within his casual attire to sit comfortably on the King’s lap, looking and acting as any normal couple would. 

Like how he wishes you could. He’s envious.

“I was told by Yoongi you left home to go see your girlfriend. Change of plans?” Hoseok begins after receiving a sweet peck from his lover. This causes Jungkook to frown not just in jealousy but from the title he’d given you so carelessly. 

Hoseok must have picked up on one of Yoongi's bad habits because Jungkook then rolls his eyes and curses the man mentally for spreading that private information. “I only wanted to check on her and she’s not my girlfriend.” 

“Yoongi said you’d say that.” Jimin suddenly chimes in, laughing softly and causing Hoseok to let out an easy chuckle. “—He also told us you were in deep denial. The both of you apparently are…”

Hoseok then shrugs with a smug smile.  “They’re the perfect example of an alexithymic bond, according to him.” 

“Kind of reminds you of a certain someone, huh?” Jimin cackles under his breath and Hoseok immediately tenses back up, a look of slight embarrassment behind his eyes as he chooses to focus back on the youngest.

Meanwhile, Jungkook stares irritably like a child, realizing, first he would need to talk with Yoongi again and set a few things straight about sharing his personal life and second, that watching two of his other friends find humor in his situation definitely wasn’t helping in the slightest.

“Are you done?” He scowls and huffs when Jimin motions him to speak. “Look, I didn’t believe Hyung when we talked earlier. I couldn’t think about anything else when I planned to stay with her. I thought at the time I could control myself, my emotions,  but I think they may be too out of reach. He told me I could come to you and that you knew how to fix this.” Jungkook finishes with a lingering sincerity in his words that causes a sorrowful atmosphere in the room.

Hoseok definitely understands this pain.

The man nods in thought. “True, if anyone knows how far it can affect you, he was right when he suggested you come to me…multiple times.” Hoseok emphasizes the last part and watches Jungkook’s eyes shift elsewhere, feigning innocence. “Though, I will say that doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll tell you what you want to hear. What you feel might help, might not be what you think it is.” 

Jungkook couldn’t care less, he just needed this to stop. It's truly terrifying how secure he felt of himself before he saw you today and now he could say the exact opposite. “That's fine, Yoongi already told me about the bond and that it's screwing with me mentally. So I was curious, can it mess with what I’m feeling as well?” . 

Jungkook figured he’d run the risk of another hallucination with you, but not the aggressive emotions that came to him after being near instead. He would have never guessed that the rarest of these situations would end up as you somewhat bonded to him. 

“...Well, yes.” Hoseok stares at Jungkook to study him. “We’re not truly meant to have emotions, but once you complete the bond they should settle down.” He concludes as if it were that simple for Jungkook, truthfully it isn’t. If it were, he wouldn’t be here talking to them, he’d have you wrapped in his arms hoping you’d reciprocate what he’s feeling. 

Hoseok knows that.

“It's beyond that, Hyung. When I got near her..I felt something strange.” He inhales deeply, thinking back to the moment he’d seen you in front of your bedroom door. Whatever that weird feeling he had, it wasn’t nice and that only reminded him that there’s nothing about him that is. The horrifying image that began to form in his mind and started off so loving, could that be the trigger Yoongi had mentioned earlier? Was Jungkook truly becoming part of his worst self? 

Hoseok’s brows raise in curiosity, clearly probing to see where Jungkook was going with this. “Well of course, it's only natural to feel eager. Part of completing the bond will require you both to feel that urge.”

Jungkook frowns, until Hoseok’s words truly hit him and he then waves his inky hand out. “Hyung no…not like that. This wasn’t sexual-or it was?… I don’t know, it felt like I really wanted to hurt her.” Jungkook's eyes seemed to look a little lost as he tried to place it all together. “And it wasn’t out of anger or fear. For a second, it was like a sick combination of wanting to kiss her and then ripping her apart at the same time. I guess that’s what Yoongi was trying to warn me about.” 

“I-… don’t think you’ve ever felt that with me.” Jimin says looking down towards his pondering lover.

“It was more confusion and misdirected anger for myself…so not exactly.” Hoseok mumbles with a frown, but they don’t seem as alarmed as Jungkook thought they would be. 

Hoseok then  taps his fingers against the arm of the chair, having both Jungkook and Jimin look at him in anticipation. “She is human, right Jungkook? You had to have wanted this more than just one time. After all…we do feed on their souls every now and then. It sounds like you wanted to devour her.”

Jungkook is aware, but that didn’t stop him from hanging his head in acknowledgment. “I know, but I can usually ignore that with her and it's not like I have it often. Now it's just clawing at my insides, I-I don't know what else to do.” Jungkook looks up from his feet and meets them with sorrowful eyes. “I’ll die before I do that to her.” 

Jimin’s eyes drop from his last statement but he quickly recovers with a sweet smile. “Although I've never seen us harbor so much for one human, it's cute to see how much you care for her.” He says while clearly having an internal battle, which makes Jungkook cringe in embarrassment.

“I don’t think, wanting to eat her soul could be categorized as cute, right now.” He replies to Jimin. “Actually, nothing about our connection has been right. My hallucinations have only proven that.”

Hallucinations? Hoseok’s ears perk up.

“Jungkook–” Hoseok suddenly calls him in a serious manner. “I want to say that I understand where you’re coming from in this, but truthfully, I’m not happy to admit that there's ever been a point in time that I didn't see humans as a way to sustain life. However, I do understand the emotions inside of you right now and can definitely recommend that you’ve reached a breaking point within your connection to her.”

“So what does that mean? You’re saying it's too late? Can't anything be done?” Jungkook tries openly, but the way his stomach turns after hearing that is really solidifying his dilemma.

“I know you’re aware of what happened to Jimin and I when we were suddenly bonded to each other and we were always working together side by side. I won’t go into too much detail. However, you should know that Hallucinations were one of the last things I had begun to experience and each one had become more vivid and haunting than the last. Sometimes I’d even blacked out for hours until Jimin found me in one and...” Hoseok stops, swallowing before he glances towards the small scar above Jimin’s eyelid. Anyone could see the immediate regret on Hoseok’s face, including the lover in question himself. 

Jimin sends him a sad smile, but Jungkook could tell it was meant to reassure Hoseok, not pity him.

Jimin then screws his lips up together, taking over for Hoseok’s silence. “I think what he’s saying is. It's not common for anyone within our bloodline to grow an intimate attachment to anyone outside of here. Especially not to a human. So we can’t guarantee anything.” He says before looking at Hoseok apprehensively “However, there are other options and one you should consider before you actually end up hurting her- whether you meant to or not. You’ve already moved into a hostile state and by the looks of it, you’re lucky enough to have pulled yourself out. You can’t go back to her without our help.”

Jungkook straightens up at the mention of another option, but his chest stings at the thought of never seeing you again. “So there is something you can do? ” He asks, his eyes lighting up like a child’s on christmas morning. Both Hoseok and Jimin go warm at the younger’s expression, but it didn’t stop the massive amount of guilt for how they were about to crush it. 

They already know it isn’t going to be that easy.

“Yes…two actually.” Hoseok clears his throat with uncertainty and Jimin squeezes his lover’s hand with comfort. It was as if he knew exactly what the elder was thinking.  

Actually Jimin does know what Hoseok could be thinking… “It’s okay Hobi.”

“So- what is it?” Jungkook then falters, a deep dread filling his heart when he sees their body language shift. 

How could it possibly be worse than what they’ve already told him? 

Hoseok sighs. “It’s possible that in your case, your body is somehow mixing both forms of your infatuation with her. Drawn in by her soul and the connection that the bond has created for both of you. Judging from what Yoongi told me, your emotions are everywhere obviously, so even you can’t tell when you’re not thinking straight- which unfortunately has left you at a very unstable stage that you can’t fix unless you complete the bond… or break it.” 

Jungkook doesn’t say anything when Hoseok stops to let it sink in. He only stares before he says something that just might set Jungkook off. “How do you break it? Glad you asked. Well the only way possible to break your bond would be if one of you dies and clearly you killing her won’t be an option, so we could just throw that one out the window. Since you’ve willingly expressed killing yourself before it comes to that.” 

Jungkook blinks to control his sudden rage at the suggestion, he couldn’t even let the idea cross his mind for that to happen. But how could an option like this help him in any kind of way?

“Hyung, what exactly is the point of telling me that?” He grits his teeth. 

Hoseok shrugs, clearly showing how much he couldn’t care if that offended Jungkook or not.  “It’s better you know everything than me skipping on the details. The more you know, the easier it is to explain how serious this situation is not only for you but the girl as well. I don’t need anyone coming to me later on, because I half-assed on the information of how our bonds work. Now as I was saying, the real option here will actually be a lot harder than contemplating the other. It's the route I took and…it had a price to pay.” 

“One hell of a price.” Jimin suddenly grumbles bitterly, grabbing both of their attention and Jungkook’s curiosity. 

“Don’t exaggerate, it wasn’t that awful.” Hoseok warns sternly.

Jimin huffs in annoyance. “Easy for you to say, you’re not the one who had to deal with you while you were in that state. I held a lot of patience with you Jung Hoseok…and a lot of energy.” 

“...What is he talking about?” Jungkook’s eyes widened from Jimin’s sudden confession.

Hoseok’s mouth opens but it's cut short and Jungkook really wishes the guy would just get the hell on with it. Seeing his impatience, Hoseok then sits forward with a look that's sending chills over Jungkook’s body. 

“We think it would be best to shut off your emotions.” He finally says and waits patiently for Jungkook’s reaction. Which after a much awaited silence, Isn’t the one he was expecting.

“What—?” The couple watches shocked as the tension leaves his face. They take a glance at each other. “You start off with death and end with that?” Jungkook suddenly chuckles while sitting back within the chair as relief floods him. He exhales and might as well have laughed in their faces, which technically he is. It definitely explains the reason their gazes have turned into daggers towards him. 

“You could have at least pretended to take that seriously.” Hoseok says while rolling his eyes at Jungkook. 

 Abruptly, Jimin’s sassiness had surfaced again while seeing the amusement with the younger’s eyes. “What exactly is so funny about this?” He asks completely straight faced, quite frankly a little disappointed in how light Jungkook was taking this. Yoongi was right when he said that Jungkook hasn’t been himself. At a time like this, they’d taught him better to understand these situations. 

The raven haired man in question pauses “What? Turning off my emotions? I’m not a doll, I don't have an on and off button for what I feel. I thought I was going to have to do some fucked up blood ritual or something.” 

“No, but you almost splattered your girlfriend’s blood over her apartment walls. Therefore, I don’t think you have the luxury to laugh this off.” Jimin seethes within Hoseoks lap. “Maybe that could be the ritual you’re looking for.” Jimin then clips at Jungkook and he flinches from the harsh words.

Hoseok himself then moves his hand from Jimin’s hip and rubs soothingly towards the bottom of his back, comforting him the same way the other had done for him earlier. He then takes his chance to control the narrative once again. “What Jimin is trying to say, Kook, is that as I mentioned before- with us, there is no need for our emotions. We live, breathe and exist solely to keep order which honestly should be the only objective within our life span. Like we said, mating to humans or anyone else outside of us is uncommon and that's due to the high unlikelihood of a connection in the first place, plus the past members before us who have refused to complete their bond with them. So to say, Almost, if not all of them had broken those bonds as rare as it is. To go through with it, they learned to numb themselves from the emotional toll it takes.” He explained, and the longer he went, the slower he said them to the kid. 

Jungkook could feel this conversation making more sense, however he doesn’t like where his mind is getting to in the conclusion. He swallows knowing he should wait for Hoseok to explain, but he couldn’t help himself. “Are you telling me…they took away their emotions and killed their other half?”

Hoseok sighs. “Unfortunately, yes.” 

“Thats fucking stupid.” Jungkook exclaims. 

“Hey, It’s not stupid when you’re putting both of your lives in danger. Then again you don’t seem to give a shit about yours in the first place. So it’s not surprising that you can’t see the reasons behind it. ” Jimin speaks cautiously, but even then those weren’t a good choice of words.

 Hoseok tries to diffuse the conversation, but it's too late.“Jimin don’t–”

“So they decided their lives were worth more than the other? Her life is just as important as mine and despite what you think, I do care. Just not for a lifetime without her.” Jungkook’s nostrils flare as his chest rises harder and Both of the demons across from him are suddenly on high alert as they gauge his unstable temper. 

The last thing Hoseok wanted was for this situation to end  up just like Jungkook’s earlier encounter with Yoongi. It can be tricky trying to talk someone down who's only being driven by the slightest change of what they’re feeling.  

Hoseok then shoots a quick glare at the red head. Do not set him off…

He then clears his throat to gain their attention. “Calm down and stop pissing each other off. I swear sometimes I think you guys overestimate how my patience works.”

Jungkook can hear Hoseok say this through his deafening anger, nothing but the sound of his heart beating rapidly in his chest as he takes deeper breaths to do what his friend asks.

“However, Jungkook, know we are completely aware of the fact that you don’t want her to die and there is a way around that outcome. You can still choose the option of numbing yourself without killing her. In fact it’s to make sure that you’re stable enough to prevent your emotions from continuing their war with your mind. Otherwise we would have just told you to do it in the first place.” 

“Might as well have. The first thing you told me was that I had the option of killing her or myself. instead of just saying ‘hey, maybe if you shut off your emotions you can actually save yourselves’. ” He scoffs at them both and Jungkook could still feel the glare radiating from Jimin. “Could you imagine if I’d gone with the first option and decided to kill her anyway? Would you have stopped me?” 

Hoseok and Jimin stare silently at Jungkook, stunned into silence from his odd behavior. Hoseok doesn’t think he’s ever seen Jungkook this riled up, but it is a great question if he was being honest with himself.

 Would he have cared enough to stop Jungkook? 

“…I wouldn’t.”

 That answer suddenly shakes Jungkook to his very core, a prickling of goosebumps falling over his skin. 

“You are what's important and interesting about her life. Lets not pretend otherwise.” He then hears.

Someone who wasn’t in this room before had spoken up from behind Jungkook and Just like him, both Jimin and Hoseok's eyes widen as they stare right behind him. He couldn’t tell at first but the moment that overwhelming power had hit him and the couple- he knew very well who was there to greet him.

 He swore he was having the worst luck ever...

“Jin, always making an unforgettable entrance. I thought we asked that you at least give us a warning before coming here.” Hoseok sighs but it was clear he was too drained to be irritated with the elder’s intrusion.

“Though that doesn’t change the fact that you are here...what do you want?”  Jimin asks clearly, holding enough emotion for both.

“I was told our famous troublemaker made his way back, I thought I’d drop in to give him a welcome. Since apparently no one else is capable of communication.” Seokjin announces clapping a hand on the man's shoulder with a sly smile stretching across his face.  

The younger frowns skeptically.  It was odd, Jungkook wasn’t used to seeing him within his ‘Human’ form. So it surprised him when the platinum blonde look of his friend is who he’s met with on his side grinning like an idiot. Not only that but he had on the kind of all black suit only a CEO of his own company would wear. Meaning the man clearly had more important matters to attend yet he’s popping in at a time like this. 

Jungkook doesn’t trust it.

“He hasn’t been here for more than an hour. How could you possibly know?” Jimin frowns with astonishment while also looking over to Jungkook.

“He shouldn’t be able to…” Hoseok adds on.

“Why...Yoongi told me, of course. I always know what's going on with all of you, even down to that poor girl, Jungkook likes so much.” Jin beams with a handsome smile towards the three. It was one that made Jungkook uneasy, especially not after hearing what Jin had to say about you.  

Honestly, He loved the man, but his eldest friend definitely never knew when to shut the hell up about something he didn’t know and everyone knew it was only his status and ego to blame. Sometimes he wondered how Seokjin came to be at that level of power in the first place. 

Jungkook however couldn’t help when his fists balled up in his lap, staring head on at his friends. He then shoots his eyes sharply towards the king beside him. “You know nothing about her.” 

Jin grins while tilting his head in a taunting manner. “Now what makes you think that?” He asks, with an unwavering gaze. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I wouldn’t be interested in the reasons you’ve been away from home. That includes whoever is holding your attention at the moment.” The implication sends a chill down Jungkook’s spine when he sees the mischief behind his friend’s black eyes.

He knew Seokjin’s sudden appearance wouldn’t be good.

“Have you been watching her? You wouldn’t…” Jungkook asks, fear laced within his voice. He may not like what he has to say, but if that's true and Seokjin really has taken time out of his day to go see you then there's no doubt there's some truth to his words. 

“No…I’ve been watching you and her.” Seokjin answers, but then a thoughtful look makes its way to the elder. “I also remember having a fairly entertaining conversation with Y/n not too long ago. She really misses you Jungkook and I have to say I’m a little disappointed in the way you’ve left her by herself. You never know who may try to get to her…” 

Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief, hoping none of this is true. “You spoke with her?” 

“Yes, many times actually. We’re pretty close I’d say.” Jin grins down at him with pride in his chest.

Jungkook’s eye twitches and it feels as if his world is beginning to crumble beneath him. “You’re lying, if you did I’d know.”

“Well of course you wouldn’t and neither would she. Every conversation I’ve ever had with her is buried deep in the back of that simple mind, she wouldn’t know who I am unless she sees my face. I got so bored of you not noticing that I left you a hint, remember?” Jin goes to sit on the spare couch beside all of them, shrugging as he puts his feet up on the expensive looking decor of Jimin and Hoseok coffee table. 

Jimin huffs in annoyance, but Jungkook knows the man can only bite his tongue. 

“You didn’t think we weren’t going to keep tabs on you while you were away did you? Why else do you think Yoongi agreed to help you so easily?” He laughs as if this was such a light hearted matter.

A hint…? Jungkook tries hard to rack his brain for whatever Jin could have left behind but nothing comes to him. When he saw you earlier nothing seemed to be off about you, in-fact you looked perfectly fine aside from the broken gaze that you unknowingly gave him when you realized you wouldn’t see him once again. That was to be expected, he’d tainted that hope in a matter of seconds, but it was only because he knew he couldn’t stay there with you. Not with everything that had happened before, his fight with Yoongi, his anger, and Hallucinations…

That image of him pulling you into his arms and holding you close for dear life. You looked shocked at first but eventually your beautiful smile rose on your face as your heart fluttered from your excitement. Jungkook focused so much on that small detail- mouth salivating the second he senses the purity lying with you. It was such a wholesome feeling- you and him. How happy the both of you were, but the thought of ripping that purity from you certainly wasn’t. 

Jungkook’s blood suddenly runs cold when he remembers vividly what was so out of place. The reason he nearly went insane while thinking of you and another-what was setting him off in the beginning.

“You marked her with your scent…just so you could piss me off?” Jungkook’s anger was piling on dangerously from the new information, a slight pain in his stomach from realizing how Yoongi may have been lying to him this entire time. 

Did he smell Jin too? That could explain why he was trying so hard to get him to leave.

Seokjin shrugs. “Did I? Oops…”

Jimin’s face turns down and he looks over toward Jungkook with sympathy. “Jin, you’ve overdone it.”

Jungkook knew something was off…He wasn’t going insane after all. “Are you fucking kidding me? Couldn’t you have respected my privacy? I’m not some goddamn child and it’s getting pretty old how often everyone is treating me like one. Nothing about this is okay.” He sneers, now wondering if Jin is the reason he couldn’t get to you this whole time. 

Hoseok shifts uncomfortably from the elder’s demeanor, after listening for a while. “While I personally don’t agree with Jin’s actions. You aren’t doing that great of a Job at proving us otherwise, Jungkook. Despite what you think, we do care if something happens to you.”

“This is your way of showing you care?” Jungkook replies immediately, but then something hits him. “-wait what do you mean we? Did all of you know about this?” He then asks and knowing the answer it was only going to make things worse.

The couple once again shares a look and this time they look to Seokjin as well, clearly having an inside secret that Jungkook didn’t know about. He waits for one of them to say something, but all he’s met with is a deep uncomfortable silence that only had him seeing pitch black once again. 

“You’ve got to be shitting me?” He almost growls when the heat in his voice takes over. Before he knew it, the demon was triggering a lethal state within the room, it was like finally watching a child throw a tantrum. Once again, that itch inside him was burning and he just really wanted to hurt something.

From where he’s sitting, Jungkook can see how Hoseok’s eyes had shifted as well- all whites going completely pitch black as the dark veins around his face came in under his control. It's just a safety caution, one that usually any of them always had to activate between the seven of their personalities over time. 

It's also what Yoongi used to protect himself earlier, Hoseok’s essence slowly seeping out to match Jungkook’s rising mana. 

“Jungkook calm down, If it pisses you off that much- there's a lot of talk of seeing you around with a human girl regardless. There's no avoiding it. Think about it, you have plenty of enemies, we all do. Did it ever occur to you how she hasn’t become a target from your recklessness? did you really think you were protecting her enough.” Jin raises a brow himself, watching just as on edge as Hoseok was. 

Jungkook knew it had to be because of how out of character it is for him, but those words only egged him on. Everything was spiking and he couldn’t stop it, passing over Hoseok and Jimin to glare daggers towards the eldest king. 

 “Don’t tell me about putting her at risk…You went behind my back to go see her. How about if I go around poking in your affairs?” He huffs aggressively.

“—Then you’d be an idiot, asking for death.” Seokjin simply answers. “We only discuss the important matters of your relationship and yes unfortunately that includes watching your screwed behavior. We had to be sure.”

“And Y/n? What did you talk about with her?” Jungkook suddenly rises from his seat and towers towards Jin.  

“Nothing you need to worry about. I simply wanted to meet her myself. I wasn’t there longer than 5 minutes, you can ask Yoongi if you need that assurance.” The man stares up at him with a blank expression, but never loses interest in Jungkook’s foreseeable burst of anger. It only pissed him off more to see how unbothered he was. 

Did his eldest friend really not care for his feelings towards this? Or was he just saying all this because he knew it would piss Jungkook off? Little did he know, there was always a method to the eldest actions.

Just what exactly is he playing at? 

Jungkook shakes his head, looking around the room. “If it was so important to lie to me, you could have done something. Or does everyone want to sit around and laugh? Does that make you feel better? Me admitting it out loud for your amusement. I had my head so far up my ass, I couldn’t tell my own friends were lying to my face. Well, as I already told Yoongi, you all can fuck off.” 

He didn't get it, He knew what Jin said was right. Jungkook was careless, too busy thinking about when was the next time he would see you- when he wasn’t even sure there would ever be a next time. It was too much at once, realizing how much he endangered you, but also how much Seokjin would actually be right. 

How everyone was right and he was too blinded to see what's been festering for years. How long has Jungkook been in the dark about himself? When did he start sweeping it all under the rug?

It made the blood in his veins boil from his stupidity. He felt like breathing fire just for that epiphany and so when he felt it overflowing- The bond, his emotions, his selfishness and how much he missed you, he’d abruptly lifted a fist and landed a perfect blow onto the mini table between everyone. A booming crack erupts within the space, causing the duo to be unsettled. The force violently shatters the entire object into pieces, knocking Seokjin’s feet to the floor and before he could realize it, Jungkook’s temper had taken a hold of him. It catches everyone including himself by surprise, sparking another very long silence between the group. 

After a while, Jimin was the first to speak, his fiery eyes glaring at the shattered table in front of him. He then shifts in Hoseok’s lap- taking a deep breath to calm his own temper. “Okay make this a note, no more meetings in our nest.” He says as he pinches the bridge between his nose and ultimately ignoring Jungkook for his benefit. “Actually no more company within our space, this is worse than when Namjoon knocked over that emerald vase.”

Hoseok, on the other hand, looks calm and collected. He stares at Jungkook but instead of rage he only holds sympathy and Hoseok must have known he caught that, doing well to cover his own anger again. “...Don’t get me wrong, if it weren’t for the fact that you have absolutely no control over your emotions- I’d pick each of your bones by one and use them as a replacement table. That was an eight century old piece Namjoon gifted us—” 

“—After he broke our vase.” Jimin deadpans bitterly.  

Hoseok then frowns disapprovingly. “But do you now see why you’ll need to numb your emotions? What if that was your girlfriend instead? You wouldn’t need to worry about the bond or anyone coming after her for that matter, because she would have already died from you.” 

“How many times to I have to say shes not my girlfriend.” Jungkook sighs in defeat. The both of you aren’t together and again he didn’t need to be constantly reminded of himself on the matter.

Jin, who Jungkook had honestly forgotten to be sitting there, scoffs at the notion “Huh, Yoongi said you’d say that.”  He laughs clearly amused and completely unfazed by the kid, but somehow still adding fuel to the dampened fire.

Hoseok then switches his attention to the fellow king “Jin, man, please stop talking. You are the reason he just lost his temper and I don't think Jimin can handle losing another piece of our decor. You did invade his space after all.” He pleads while still consoling a much gloomier lover and Jungkook swallows thickly.

Seokjin huffs, his humor filled smile slowly dropping off when he sees the heavy emotions behind his friend’s face. Suddenly, he then claps his hands together- making a thunderous noise that has Jungkook jerking just a little. 

“Fine, I guess the kid is beginning to learn his lesson.” He starts, demeanor going deathly cold as he faces the youngest.

 Jungkook can’t help but to listen and take him as seriously as he’d put on, watching the way that darkness over takes his eye sockets. And the paleness in between his deepened veins. Its chilling, knowing only Jin was capable of that power.

“From what I heard earlier, you took everything Hoseok was telling you without much consideration. Which only shows me that obviously you’re not grasping the decision you are about to make. Not only that, but how you’ve decided to handle your own mistakes by taking it out on your family when we’re trying to help you fix it. There are times we spoil you, like letting you leave your duties here unattended or not reprimanding you when you’ve clearly lost any control on your own power and we do it because we want you to come into your own maturing. It’s sad that even with this freedom, you’ve caused nothing but trouble and too much attention- which is why I told Yoongi to watch over you since he seemed to be the most worried . Who knew you’d repay him by tearing his arm open in the process.” 

Jimin sighs, seemingly over losing one of his prized pieces. “Jin...it’s fine.” 

“No, it is not.” Seokjin glances at him with a harsh gaze, having the prince fall back into silence. 

Seokjin then goes back to a quiet Jungkook. “You’re lucky it's me here and not Joon, he’d probably take it upon himself to rid you of your connection to her despite you disagreeing. Fortunately, I didn’t tell him everything you’ve been doing, he only knows about Y/n and that you’ve definitely taken a liking to her. Maybe, we can keep it that way, but first you need to clean up your mess. Listen to Hoseok and turn off those damn emotions, before you end up killing Y/n and yourself.” 

“I-” Jungkook wants to defend himself, but when he thought about it...was there actually any point?

 He’s wrong and he knows it, plus the prince knows just how lenient they’ve been with him. He was fortunate to be where he is, he could have been at the bottom ranks- a no name slaving away for the rest of eternity...he would have never met you.  “Yes, Hyung. I’m sorry.” 

 “Stop apologizing, those are only words. We didn’t bring you here to watch you disappoint us, nor would we ever want you to fail.” Jin watches as Jungkook’s pride leaves his expression and sees the resolve in him instead. 

Meanwhile Hoseok looks at him and Seokjin, they both nod in confirmation- giving him the go ahead to continue on with Jungkook. He just didn’t know if this would be something Jungkook is capable of handling once it's done. “ I can help you turn them off Kook...however, turning them back on won't be easy. You might not even want to, it's up to you whether you complete your connection to her or break it. Do you think you’re up for that?”

“You can’t undo it by yourself, that's for sure. They’d gradually have to come back, either over time or I guess if something really special happens. There's no true way to tell how your relationship will continue with her.”  Jimin looks to him as well, everyone’s eyes falling on the poor prince and awaiting his answer as he thinks hard about it.

What other choice did he have?

Jungkook nods in understanding, the image of you and your smile coming to him and it hurts to know that at some point- that may no longer have his heart skipping like it is at this moment. Still, he’d rather have you and make you happy while he felt nothing - than to not have you at all. So once again his mind was made up he didn’t need another second to begin his transition. 

“Okay, let's do it..”

Hoseok nods.

He then stands from his seat, bracing himself as if he was going to go to war and both of the couple follow. Jimin gets up first and then Hoseok, standing apart and Jungkook waits when he sees the king rolling up the sleeves of his button down and how Jimin begins to move the furniture back. The broken table shards, the chairs, even the couch Seokjin had been lounging on.  

Jungkook is suddenly nervous from the strange preparations. 

“Wait, how exactly are you going to help me—?” He couldn’t get the rest out. Hoseok signals to someone and it wasn’t long before both of the prince's knees were being kicked in from behind, causing him to drop towards the ground and his arms abruptly being pinned behind his back by an incredibly strong force. 

Jimin stands to the side and Seokjin is nowhere to be found. Which makes Jungkook assume that’s who’s holding him hostage. Meanwhile Hoseok is approaching Jungkook, pitch black eyes staring straight at him as a nasty smirk makes its way on his face. 

“Now, usually you can do this on your own if you have the experience— but since this is your first time we’ll have to do it manually, so this might hurt…-actually no, it will hurt like hell.” He begins just as his calloused hands were grabbing the sides of Jungkook's head and he notices immediately how Jimin cringes in the background- yet he still looks as amused as ever. 

Jungkook then brings his attention back to the man in front of him as a foreboding slithers deep into the pit of his stomach. “Um, Hobi Hyung–”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle…” Hoseok somehow manages to smile comfortingly once he notices the shift in Jungkook.  “—Oh and I definitely won’t be thinking about the priceless decor you’ve just destroyed less than 5 minutes ago. So just relax and try not to swallow your tongue.” He then mentions with no remorse and immediately destroys any kind of comfort the kid might have felt previously. 

Sweat begins rolling down Jungkook’s back and Hoseok then looks up towards the elder holding him down. “Ready?”

“ Let's get this over with, I’m getting bored.” Seokjin sighs in return.

These sadistic assholes…Jungkook thinks to himself.

Hoseok focuses back on him, the black in his veins deepening and pouring through his arms as a smokey black essence begins to seep out and wrap around Jungkook's head like snakes. It’s hot like lava, a searing pain that follows in its path as it slowly inches towards his nose and eyes. 

 He’d say a silent prayer if he actually prayed…Instead he could only release a pained groan from the heat that was begging to enter his head. The essence falls in relentlessly, making Jungkook’s eyes roll back and not long after afterwards does Hoseok notice the dark blood beginning to drip from his nose, seeping from his eyes and ears in the same manner and Jungkook lets out animalistic scream.

He’s got him…

“Okay, let's begin.”

You’re not sure whether you’d slept through most of the night well, but somehow while you were within a deep sleep, you felt an immense amount of pain washing over you within your dreams before leaving you completely numb and floating in an endless void. 

It was strange, how saddened you had been just moments ago after having a weird dream and then waking up instant without any cause. 

Just like that void, darkness is the only thing that engulfs you as you come to. Your senses are suddenly alert to any small thing around you and you’re jolting awake violently with intense heat swirling around in your head. Before it runs throughout your entire body, It then slowly begins to fade and you’re taking in a deep breath when you’re very much aware of the sounds filling your lonesome space.

When you glance in front of your bed, you’re shocked to see thick black boots clunking across your bedroom floor and heading purposefully in your direction. Your first instinct is to immediately panic, heart beat rising in the fear of some unknown intruder breaking into your apartment. But then, as your gaze quickly moves around in the darkness, it then follows up the tall figure striding closer.

 You’re terrified, immediately frozen with fear when you see how familiar it looks to you in the distance, a strange sense of an unknown emotion taking you  by surprise.

They weren’t attacking you, actually you were almost sure they’re doing the exact opposite. The movements are highly familiar and you’re too focused seeing an inked hand reaching towards the bottom half of your legs. In the process, you’re holding your breath and a wary look crosses your face when that same hand goes to grip the sheets you’d kicked off in your sleep. 

Realizing this, you know for a fact that the figure was getting ready to pull them over you- just like it always did when you were too hot to leave them on and this only aided in making you aware of how extremely cold you are at the moment. 

At times like this, you’d be too tired to refuse them letting him tuck you in on his own volition and you’d know you would just see him the next day. 

But this time, you’re wide awake, not knowing if it’s really who you thought him to be and you weren’t willing to wait and see. Without thinking, you shoot up from your position and daringly reach towards the hand you’ve been eying that entire time.

“Jungkook-...” 

You barely let the name leave your mouth as what you thought to be a person freezes. Unfortunately, the second your fingers could feel the object, you were immediately met with the air of your bedroom and the entire image disappears like a mirage. 

Nothing, you were seeing nothing.

 No figure, no black combat boots, none of that beautiful natural ink that snaked up his hand and around his body like an art. Instead your excitement is quickly stunted when you’re suddenly knocked out of your bed from a force that couldn’t be stopped. Your entire body twists and hurdles quickly towards the floor and you’re bracing yourself to hit the ground face first. 

“Huh…-?” You open your eyes, suddenly jolting awake again. After a few seconds of awaiting that inevitable pain, you’re actually surprised to find yourself face planted into one of your pillows on your bed.

What… was that? You thought groggily as your eyes adjusted again, but it wasn’t to the darkness- instead you were being blinded by the light of your bedside lamp. You didn’t remember leaving it on and when you had awakened earlier it was off...right? 

You remembered sleeping and this weird emotion came over you before you were jumping awake to grab for…maybe it was your light? That would explain how it got turned on in the middle of the night. The only problem is, you could have sworn you fell out of your bed when you did. 

You then frown, head fuzzy with confusion as you tried to remember what exactly had just happened. As you moved, you felt more tired than usual, feeling as if a truck had run over your body and you slowly started  to sit up within your position, your throat feeling extremely dry after the past few hours. 

You sigh, turning to your side to look at the alarm clock that said 3:00 in the morning and your face turns down even more before rubbing at your eyes. How is that possible? You could have sworn that's when you fell asleep and just so you could ease this suspicion, you reach next to the clock to grab your phone, finding it to still be 3:00 am completely un-moving as well.

Strange.

 Wondering to yourself how time hasn’t changed since you’ve been sitting there, you swallow slowly and attempt to get your thoughts together. It’s all too eerie for you and you couldn’t let yourself sit still for much longer, finally moving from your bed. 

 “It’s fine, you’re fine.” You grumble to yourself as you stand.

It’s times like this where you wish you could call on Jungkook, nervous to be in your own home alone. You never realized how much you’ve also grown to depend on him. Calling out for him whenever you wanted and he’d show up in a blink of an eye. Now no matter how hard you tried, he hasn’t shown and this time you felt like you needed him more than ever.

You stumble across the bedroom’s floor and out into the hall like usual when the atmosphere feels way off, almost spacey in a way. The hairs on the back of your neck are beginning to stand and your body shivers as a chill racks down your spine. You hold yourself once you've begun to walk through.  

You couldn’t explain the dreadful sense that was easing up on you, feeling as if someone was taking the same steps as yours. It’s like they were watching your every move and hiding, while you made your way to the kitchen. 

You huff when you  finally get close and unease fills your chest. It only makes it worse while you are traveling through the dark of your own apartment, unable to see who else may be waiting around within it.

Once you are by the entrance, you notice how warm your back is and you could swear someone is standing right behind you- transferring heat from their body to yours. Quickly, panic had begun to set in and you’re shivering in the freezing temperature, pulling your shirt down a bit more for warmth. A constant anxiety of knowing once you turn around you weren’t going to like what you’re met with in return. 

There’s nothing more terrifying than this as the overwhelming presence is getting closer. Hell, you could swear they were running to you over and over again, but you’re quick to shake that thought.

Maybe all of this is just in your head…

 Before you drive yourself even more crazy, you finally round the corner of your destination and feel on the wall to reach slowly for the light switch. You wanted to do it fast, but that would just ruin the stealth and you didn’t want to trigger whatever it is, but still you couldn’t see a damn thing. So your hand slowly crawls up more as you swallow down your fear and when you are close enough to feel the block shaped switch on the wall, you’re closing your eyes and taking a deep breath for bravery before you flick it upwards and a bright light gives you a clearer look into the housing—

Everything…is truly in your head and you need help.

You release the breath you were holding, looking back to see your living room in its neat and peaceful state. No one is there and neither is anyone else when you glance down the hallway from where you came. No axe murderers or night creatures stalking your movement- just you. 

You then laugh out incredulously, almost like a fooled mad woman and relief floods you after finally coming to the conclusion that you were actually alone. You make sure to calm yourself, running your hand over your hair and somehow managing to get it through this time without the knots. 

As if you aren’t stressed enough, working like crazy and having the biggest meltdown over your  friend, while also realizing your feelings for him. You’re probably going to have to consider psychological therapy, after clearly making up scary scenarios in your head.

 Tension starts leaving you little by little, but you’re so choked up from a drier throat- it suddenly has you padding over to one of your cabinets so you could grab a glass from the lower shelf.  You then head over to your fridge before reaching into it to grab the water jug, filling your glass in complete silence. 

It feels like nothing but that could help and as parched as you are, you’re  more than willing to take your first big swallow to soothe the dryness altogether along with your anxiety. The cool water goes down and you hum in appreciation, sighing in content before pulling the glass up against your lips, the only problem this time seems to be that you still don’t feel completely alone.  

Pausing altogether, that dreadful emotion makes its way back to you. Actually, before you could even think about taking your next sip of water- you were sure that you heard steady footsteps clunking from your side. 

Fear shakes you to your very core and before you could react, you’re looking towards the source only to see nothing, but clearly hearing them as they step around. Your heart is beating rapidly, so much you might as well have been put into the hospital from an unhealthy pace. —Abruptly, with a pitiful whimper you could feel your blood run cold and two arms are emerging from behind you, coming to wrap around your waist as a way of hugging you snugly from behind. Your throat wants to close up- the hairs on your body standing to alert because there was definitely someone’s breath falling heavily down the back of your neck. Steadily, not ragged as if they felt no kind of adrenaline or worse they’d been perfectly calm watching you this entire time.

Kind of like a natural predator.

Normal people would have screamed, moved- do anything other than releasing the fragile glass within their hand and letting it drop eventfully to the floor. You obviously weren’t within that category, stuck in place until you had the strong scent of mint hitting your nose.

 Only then did you feel like crumbling onto the ground.

  “When did you become a sleepwalker? You hate walking in the dark.” A deep but soft voice chimes from behind you. The melody immediately reminds you of your friend and you're taken back by the way your body is instantly covered in that similar wash of heat.

You slowly reply. “With good reason when you’re sneaking around my apartment.”

Jungkook tenses behind you from the reaction and leans down to place his chin on your shoulder, a simple chuckle rattling in his chest and vibrating on your back. “Technically I’m not sneaking if I let you hear my footsteps.” 

“Same, difference. I thought you were someone waiting to kill me.” You say rolling your eyes, but it was clearly all a front. 

His chest rises on your back. “Well you’d make it way too easy, stumbling clumsily. You weren’t exactly subtle and I definitely had plenty of tempting opportunities.” 

“Oh…” As much as you try to calm yourself, you are still in the aftershocks of your fear. 

“...Hey-…I’m kidding.” Jungkook then adds from your silence, but feels your body is shaking in his hold, trembling under his arms and weak as ever.  

He wonders if it could have been from you only wearing an oversized t-shirt in your deathly cold apartment or if you simply couldn’t handle the way he had himself wrapped around you for a surprise. He’s studying you, inhaling your scent when it hits him and he’s intrigued when his heartbeat still speeds up, however no excitement fills his chest-at least not in the way it used to. 

Now, while you are directly in his reach, it's too bad that whatever Hoseok had done to him, he could just barely feel the parts that had him completely enamored with you.

He’s empty, no happiness, or thrill for being around you. He isn’t sad not feeling anything for you either, if anything he’s just really horny and he likes how your touch sends euphoric shocks all around him. It actually reminds him of what Hoseok said earlier, how others before him did this so they could  kill their partners...In some way he can see why. 

There was only slight truth to the temptation, when he said it would have been easy to kill you. He just knows logically, if he did, he’d never forgive himself when the block wears off. To be honest he was actually facing a much different dilemma and that was figuring out a way to ignore the secondary effects. 

 Forcing himself away from the physical pull of you. 

Fortunately, he won’t have to worry too much on that aspect- in fact he’s not worried at all. Jungkook honestly doesn’t know how he was able to be so consumed with you before, but it was certainly clarifying without all those thoughts running around in his head. 

For instance, earlier, Jungkook didn’t realize how boring it was to watch over you- which is something he’s never noticed before. It should be heartbreaking for his lack of reaction. Him, appearing in your room as you slept away peacefully after not seeing you for weeks and he couldn’t be overcome with his joy once he was finally near you again. He wasn’t distracted with his love and excitement of finding you at a good time, though that doesn’t mean he couldn’t feel anything else.

He specifically remembers seeing how you’d kicked all of your covers off while sleeping like usual, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from running over your body and it seems the only thing he could succumb to is his natural instincts. 

He’s considered how he should intervene, afterall it would be the first time you’ve seen him in a while and he didn’t want to just thrust himself back into your life. He could have crawled into bed with you and held you close just to feel something, but he still wasn’t too sure at the time if you were safe. The last time he’d gotten so close he almost allowed the darkest part of him out and thankfully that doesn’t seem to be the problem anymore. Instead, he thought he could at least cover you with your blankets- consistently finding himself to be distracted and pulled to you the more your body was shifting maneuvering to find any kind of warmth.

He could’ve helped with that…wait no- he definitely shouldn't. At least not while he wasn’t not in love with you? It’s only fair.

He found himself wondering what it was you could possibly be dreaming of to have you in so much distress. With nothing else to entertain him- he couldn’t help it...curiousity overtook his thoughts and he wasn’t ready for the images and information he was met with after taking a short look within your head, throwing the man off furthermore into his visit and ultimately messing with his self control.

It was enough to have him thinking, swallowing back his urges and moving across your room to wait. Stupidly, Jungkook was so wrapped up in your thoughts, trying to process your new emotions, he didn’t pay attention to his own movements. A spark of fire suddenly flew throughout his head, causing him to stutter and he stomped forward at the same time your body jolted.

 In the end he only woke you from your sleep when he made too much noise, hearing you call for him out of the blue and shooting up to reach for him with no warning. Once you actually had his wrist in your hand- he froze looking down at your miserable hazy expression and it didn’t feel right the way he wanted to touch you or ravish you...he could feel a part of him scratching from inside- mouth salivating and canines growing longer. He was even thankful you couldn’t see the veins deepening around his pitch black eyes at that moment.

Wasn’t this supposed to help with his control? 

Shit...He thought, pupils dilating and before you knew it, Jungkook made the cautious decision to put you back to sleep, then moving as far away from you as possible.

It wasn’t until time had passed that he planned to visit you again, assuming that it would be better instead of waking you up in the middle of the night, especially after discovering what you’d had been going through while he was gone. Sadly, he still couldn’t resist, Hearing the way your heart beats rapidly in your chest, your waves of fear rolling off of you and beckoning his darkest nature to follow. Before he knew it, Jungkook felt too drawn to you as you entered the kitchen, listening to the whispers of your thoughts calling out for him. It was like the first time he heard it. You were just as scared and lonely, giving up on the reality that he would show and he was trying his best not to be affected by it.  It was actually kind of depressing... If the man hadn’t shown himself just now, you’d probably have given yourself a stroke, or burst into tears sooner than later—because apparently you are now being affected by the bond a lot more than him.

In that moment, he knew the ultimate ways to make it stop, fulfill the bond or break it. Jungkook was conflicted, he loves you and he knows this, even if he currently couldn’t feel it. But still… would this be something you wanted?

Jungkook paced back and forth, hands itching to reach for you and it almost got the better of him, until a sweet smell of almond had them shifting from their angle near the pulsing beat in your neck and wrapping around you- completely giving away his stealth. 

Jungkook inhaled, resisting the arousal forming inside. 

Yeah, he just fucked himself.

“Don’t stress yourself, I’d never let anyone hurt you.” He holds a little tighter hoping to calm your racing heart, but it only makes its beat faster. Oh the irony- considering how he really needs to protect you from himself.

“That's hard to believe when you’ve suddenly gone MIA Kook.” You scoff breathlessly, lowering your gaze to one of the hands around you and seeing the familiar markings all over it. Without thinking, you grab for it, hoping that once you did, you wouldn’t end up realizing you had been dreaming the entire time. Honestly, it was getting hard to tell at this point. “You were gone for a month and I thought you left me alone again.” 

He shifts uncomfortably, frowning in thought about how he’d been blocked from seeing you—which, he later learned may be due to the meddling of his brothers.

 He wished he could be pissed, having Seokjin conveniently reveal to him after Hoseok took his emotions temporarily. Apparently, it was their way of testing out their theory about his relationship with you, your bond to their youngest member. Which is now only proven to be completely true and Jungkook wouldn’t put it past Seokjin to have manipulated the situation as some form of punishment for him.

He was truly cruel when he wanted to be. 

“I-... had business to take care of at home, it just took me longer than usual.” Jungkook lies, but takes a mental note of how he will be speaking with Yoongi once he gets his emotions back.

“A little communication would still have been nice. Plus that doesn’t explain why you decided to pop in and scare the living hell out of me in the middle of the night.” You swallow the thick lump in your throat while trying not to let yourself be overcome with your feelings. It was hard to control how much your hands were actually shaking at that moment, Whether it be from what was left of your fear or just the overall excitement of having your good friend back. 

It's been two weeks and while you are concerned— you’re curious as to why he chose now to talk with you.

He shrugs “To be fair, you told me nothing about you working night shifts this entire week. I’ve tried looking for you every moment I got...” Your eyes widen from the confession, starry orbs filled with curiosity. He sighs, lifting his shoulders “-you were gone right under my nose.”

You’re silent for a moment.“...How did you know that?”

“Know what?” 

“That I was working more shifts?” You clarify in an expectant tone. 

He suddenly stiffens and you’re already sighing in disappointment when you figure it out. This wouldn’t be the first time Jungkook has found out something he shouldn’t know from you.

“Jungkook…” You say his name and he rolls his eyes, thinking he might have made the wrong move telling you that. “We’ve talked about this.”

He holds a little tighter  “I know, I know you hate it when I invade...I just wanted to know where you’ve been.” He continues to lie.

The problem is…why did he feel like he had to? Why is Jungkook putting off the inevitable? You are his soulmate and he will have to tell you that eventually.

“Working and trying not to be worried crazy about you...that would have been my answer if you’d just asked me.” 

“You need to be a little crazy to have someone like me in your life, Angel. Otherwise you’d have never come back, the moment you found me again.” He replies a bit too honestly.

“...Did you just call me crazy?” You finally crack a half smile and step forward out of his embrace.

Jungkook reluctantly lets you go and he hums. “No, I said a little crazy.”

“Yo-...You stalked my life for months and have a personal vendetta against my uniform shirt.” You’re ready to point it out. 

“Anyone would be scarred looking at that hideous outfit they force you to wear.” He rolls his eyes.

“Jungkook, you burned two sets of my work clothes and I almost got fired for that.” You balk in disbelief while he smirks, completely satisfied with himself.

“A small price to pay for salvation.” He immediately replies and you then move, turning around to face him when you recognize those words.

“Did you just quote Thanos?” The question leaves your mouth when a giggle rises in your throat from your friend and before you know it, you’re finally facing him and seeing him for the first time in a while.

Jungkook actually didn't do much, instead looking down towards you and slowly dropping his smile before running his eyes completely over your face. He falters, barely letting you catch on to the way his brows dip in concentration when your eyes meet and he can sense the change in your mind.

 You, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to catch your breath once you stared up at him and slowly went over his whole attire. 

Jungkook, no longer looked like his normal dress code. Sure he’s still wearing his thicker boots, but they weren’t the kind you were used to. He’s dressed way more mature than normal, black loose button up undone by the first three and exposing the top part of his chest, he’s sporting black leather pants fitted to the thicker chords of his thighs and you’re then switching to the matching leather jacket that goes with it.

 It’s...so mouth watering to say the least, but still made your throat run dry once your eyes went from the simple silver chain on his chest and up to his face. Which also brings you to the most surprising change that catches you off guard. It was the fact that he actually changed his hair. No longer was it draped to his shoulders and hung half-way back into a pony-tail but instead to be tapered shallow on the sides and parted into two directions-cropped right to the top of his forehead. The style itself seemed to add years onto him, making you notice the more structured part of his jawline.You even found yourself, noticing the fact that he had a piercing on his right brow or that his markings flowed further up onto his neck than you’ve ever seen before.

Oh... wow… You breathe and your eyes go wide when you realize you’re probably  staring too long. It was impossible to keep yourself from being starstruck. 

Jungkook looked like a completely different man and one who had the confidence of someone nowhere near your level. It was striking to say the least, but also just a little intimidating- especially being that you were only in a huge worn out shirt for night clothes. 

Immediately, you notice how his eyes go lax just a little, his usual black orbs staring straight into you, possibly seeing every sinful emotion you feel just by the first look at him. 

He definitely can and it’s excruciating for him to ignore.

 Jungkook clears his throat, ignoring whatever you’re doing to him. “I know I was born in hell, but you’re looking at me like I actually agree with his ideology...”  He chuckles.

—You quickly stop him and pull yourself together. 

“Kook, no. I... just wasn’t expecting you to look like this.” You say as you shake your head, trying to collect your thoughts, but still finding it hard to adjust to his gaze. For some reason it comes off way more alluring than usual and you have no doubt it was stemming from you suddenly wanting to jump his bones.

Jungkook stares at you a little too hard as if he was trying to figure out a puzzle. He then looks down, thinking about his appearance until it hits him. “Oh! yeah, I guess I’ve never had to show you this persona. I only use it while I’m home and not working.” He tries to explain cautiously.

“You mean, this is what you look like when you’re not here?”  You point out with a nervous tilt to your voice. “-Like a crazy hot dilf?” 

Jungkook frowns in a humorous manner. “Well, I am a prince...I have to look the part to be it. Believe it or not, being royalty there is like being an A-list celeb here, except with an insane amount of fear and respect.” He teases and yet something seems off. Jungkook didn’t seem like the type to care about whether he could impress others or not, he just does.

“Yeah, well not everyone rules over a section on the dark side mister, so we can’t all be hot demon royalty...well actually except for Yoongi...he at least has the attitude down perfectly.” You’re rolling your eyes before crossing your arms, only to land on the ground- where you recently remembered you just dropped one of your nice glasses. You then move, walking around your kitchen island to grab for a napkin and broom.

 “I’m sorry that I was born naturally hot?” He smirks while also catching you off guard. 

You lift your brow completely taken back by his arrogance and you’re not sure why but you could feel your stomach roll in reaction. 

“ Does cockiness also come with the new clothes or…—?” You trail off as you turn to walk back so you could clean up your mess, but you stop the moment you see it’s completely gone and Jungkook’s dusting off his hands in a haste. 

“No, but it does come with the title.” He chirps immediately catching on to your question and shrugs casually. When he does this, your eyes immediately zone in on his chest falling up and down and you’re quickly thinking of a way to pull yourself together. While doing so, you place the napkin gently onto the kitchen counter after putting the broom back in the corner.

 A deep breath escapes your chest when you take the time to control it and you’re leaning over your sink before checking the time on your electric stove. The clock now reads 6:53 am and you frown as you turn to look out of your kitchen window. From your view, the seemingly night sky was beginning to turn a lighter shade of violet. Indicating how soon the sun was to come. 

What the hell?

“...Jungkook?” You’re calling out into the air and before you knew it, you felt him again. 

You look back  and towards the rest of the kitchen- seeing him suddenly posted up against the entrance. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as the mesh, silk shirt hugs him beautifully around his torso. When you’re staring at him again, you watch as he plays with the ring on his lip, but your stomach churns with unease.

“Yes, Angel.” He answers and the second you blink he’s appearing right by your side, startling you incredibly. It's been so long that you're surprised by such a common move with him. You step to the side, somehow more put off by how tall he seems next to you. It’s almost as if his height had changed too.

You cross your arms before asking “It wouldn’t be crazy of me to believe you’re hiding something right?”

With that one question to Jungkook, he tenses as a cautious look slowly enters his eyes and all playfulness is gone when he sees the confusion falling into place within your mind. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” He plays dumb.

Of course he is, he just didn’t think  you’d pick up on his mistake.

You turn, leaning back on the counter and put yourself to thought. “I went to bed at 3:00 am and woke up a few minutes ago at 3:00 am…it's almost 7:00 now.” You state more so as if you’re trying to piece it together yourself.

“You must’ve been dreaming or something. Don’t stress yourself out over it.”  He swallows, suddenly seeming on guard and it's almost unnerving how straight his face has gone to hide any expression. 

He looks hollow.

“Stop that.” You frown, seeing something completely off about it. “I know you’re reading my thoughts again...I can feel it.”

“I’m not always reading your thoughts, Y/n.” He huffs, stepping up and looking down at you completely convincing to the naked eye. Deep inside, you knew better. You stare at him and don’t back down from your concern. 

 “What is it kook, I know something’s not right.” You grit. 

“What's making you think something’s wrong?” He sends you a defensive look and shrugs. 

“That right there!” You point immediately. “ You’re getting upset.”

It feels like Jungkook had suddenly put his mask back up as soon as you said that, which isn’t something normal to happen between you both. You frown deeper, looking at him. It was little at first, but you realized why Jungkook seemed a little different to you- his voice, his demeanor…it was less familiar to you and whatever dialect he was using with you was more formal than endearing. It was like meeting him over again for the first time or maybe he just felt less lively than he usually is. You would even say it feels like he’s holding part of himself back.

“You seem different and not just the way you’re dressed but how you’re acting.” You say honestly. 

He smiles and it puts you at ease a little,  but you can clearly see there's something he's not telling you because it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m just tired, there was a lot to handle once I went back and I’m still adjusting.” 

 “Adjusting to what, did something happen to you?” After hearing that, you look at him disappointed. You clearly didn’t believe a word he said and that was simply because you could easily tell when he’s lying.

“Y/n, for your sake please let it go.” He pleads.

“No.” Your expression stays hard.

He sighs in slight frustration. “I’m trying to go about this carefully and you’re not making it easy. if I tell you why then-” 

“Since when has it been too hard to tell me the truth?” You then ask, with hurt filling your voice. “ I get that there's some things I don’t need to know about what you do and your family, but it doesn’t feel like this is something with just them. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here right now.”

You’re right…He’s not fond of how obvious that is, so Jungkook says nothing in return and watches how determined you look staring up at him.

“You can tell me anything, you know.” 

“I do know that, Angel.” He replies in a sincere manner, yet still it was lacking. “It’s just not that easy to explain, okay? I don't know how.”

How to tell you he almost devoured you and wants to fuck you at the same time? Yeah super easy.

The both of you stand there in an awkward silence and it’s like someone had sucked all of the words from both of you, well mainly Jungkook. 

Clearly, there’s unknown tension in the air and neither of you weren’t sure of where to lead after that. A small part of you wondered if it's because he was in trouble, or if he’d gotten hurt. If that really is the truth behind it, it only made you worry more if somehow it would come back to mess with him again. However this still doesn’t explain why there's almost a 3 hour gap between your time and why Jungkook seems like a totally different version of himself.

Was this the real Jungkook? Is this what he’s like when he’s not with you? 

When you look at him, your chest feels heavy and you can’t make those butterflies go away when he’s looking at you just as hard. It has you realizing just how much you truly are into him. His bunny face even in the newer version of himself, those big doe eyes and pouty lips. You used to love his longer hair, always playing with it and running your hands through it, part of  you wishes you could do that now-even with his new undercut. 

You don’t realize when your mind wanders, somehow envisioning Jungkook with his wild hair, your hands running over the natural inky skin of his body as your hands tug on the silky strands to your heart’s content. You wanted that- his kisses, his touch and so much more, that was evident with the trickles of arousal invading your abdomen from his presence. It's not the moment to think of this, but you couldn’t stop the images from popping in. You’re actually beginning to feel like it wasn’t of your own volition at this point.

“I just want to understand what's going on. You say everything is alright- but it doesn’t feel like that and honestly I don't think it is.” You shake your head, hugging yourself and shielding yourself away from him.

“Y/n...I know I haven't told you everything and maybe that's because I’m still trying to understand it myself. I think it would be too soon for you to handle. There's a better time than now, we can wait. ” He speaks out while listening to every thought you were having and his breath hitches, seeing the images that invaded your mind…He wanted that too and he thought he would have more time than this.

You’re not making this better. Stop thinking like that- fuck he wishes he couldn’t see it all.

 You listen back in when he speaks and realize you were just staring at him again. Honestly you hoped that he couldn’t see what you were thinking because otherwise you’d rather have been swallowed up whole in the ground.  You clear your throat and try to push down the nervousness that's slowly rising within you- a shiver racking down your spine when you take in the mint that's hitting your nose from him and the more you found yourself standing there with him, the more you were seriously finding it harder to not think that way. You honestly have no idea where any of it came from, but you were so on edge and you can’t control it.

Exhaling you, try to calm yourself.

“I’d rather know now, before you’re disappearing to who knows where again.” You say almost as low as a whisper and step forward to take his hand in yours. “And for your information, I don’t think anything will ever be as much of a reality changer as finding out about you and the fact that demon’s actually exist, it can’t be that much worse to handle.” You smile and Jungkook sees it, in your eyes, how much you feel when it comes to him. They're warm and inviting, completely sincere with every word you say because you truly wanted to know.

Damn- wait why is he noticing that?

Honestly It was like a punch to his gut, a stinging sensation burning on the sides of his head ringing throughout his nose and ears. He hisses, bringing his hands up to touch, but he couldn’t stop the small sense of relief forming after the realization. 

You’re definitely into him.

“Y/n…”  Something twinges from within his head, trying to break through and Jungkook is hissing from the sensitive heat that sears throughout. He grunts and his hands come up to grab beside his ears.

Your eyes widen in shock. “Kook, whats wrong?” 

Grabbing his hands to pull them away, you’re looking him over intensely and you begin to notice the odd appearance on the side of his head, closer towards his ears. Without thinking much more you lean up closer to him and as usual you notice when he tenses, inhaling deeply, but that doesn’t stop you anyway. You lift up your hand to touch his face, looking in to inspect him more and Jungkook watches you like a hawk, because so much is crushing down on him at this moment.

His body is lighting up from your proximity, a hand landing gently on your waist for support. A causal gesture, but the touch created tingling shocks in its wake. You would think this is a new territory for you two, it’s quite the opposite. It was normal for you to be this intimate with him, it’s just never in any way romantically… At least not like this moment, where you are very much aware of his hand and Jungkook fights the instinct to grip you tighter, pulling you onto him.  

He tilts his head curiously, feeling the soft caresses of your fingers on his face and he sees the moment you begin to notice the slight scarring on the sides of his head. Memories of what felt like burns that Hoseok created on him comes rushing in and suddenly he curses when he feels your hands run over it. Normally his kind are able to regenerate when needed, but because Jungkook was not only affected by someone stronger than him. What was done to him causes a much deeper wound that's harder to recover from. 

It could even be irreversible.

“What is this? When did this happen to you?” You ask, running your thumb over one side. 

He hesitates but finds it better to just grit his teeth, ignoring your proximity as much as he can. “It’ll go away...I got them with some help from my friend.” He answers honestly, but still sees the confusion on your face.

Jungkook feels as your finger follows it up into his hair, your fingers slowly seeping into the shallow parts, because you simply couldn’t help it. He instantly feels a shutter in his body, briefly closing his eyes the second you thought about pulling on it just a little. Suddenly before you could look more— he grips your hand tight and pulls it away gently before looking down at you in a more serious manner, burying the heavy lust burning within his chest. 

You’re way too close right now and should definitely move. Actually, he should move too, before he messes this up…but why can’t he?

“Oh-” You blink when you realize how distracted you’d gotten before clearing your throat. “D-Did it help?”

“...Not enough.” He breathes lower, desperately, but still watches you carefully as a darker look comes into your hazy stare in return. “-If only you knew.

You don’t notice the darkness seeping into his by the second, but the air around you both was thicker all of a sudden. Are you…are you seriously turned on by him right now? Oh no.

“Then maybe you can enlighten me, Jungkook.” He hears your voice, soft and curious as you stare up at him within his running mind and very much unaware of everything he’s holding back from you. 

Your scent is so overpowering at this point that even without his emotions, Jungkook definitely still felt how high his temperature could go and it wasn’t enough to stop him from being turned on by you. He only wished Hoseok had explained that part to him, or at least warned Jungkook how much he’d have the physical need burning within him. Better yet, maybe this is what Hoseok had planned from the start- with everything else everyone has done to manipulate his relationship, maybe Jungkook wouldn’t be surprised that Hoseok had only taken it upon himself to speed up the process.

Afterall, Jungkook had willingly let him into his head…Hoseok, what did you really do to him?

A monstrous desire chews at him to take you in any way possible, anywhere, and position—so many are going through his mind. The fact that he can still hear your thoughts definitely isn’t helping.

He shakes his head “Shit, I-...It’s too much right now.” The man says, fighting the erotic influence within his head.

“…Yes, because being best friends with a guy who appears and disappears out of my house everyday makes so much more sense.” You scoff up at him and he only rolls his eyes once more at your strange humor. “--I’m pretty sure I’ve watched you kill a guy once and while I’m still severely traumatized and seriously considering therapy, at least it was too quick for Yoongi and I to see.” 

Jungkook, bites his bottom lip, knowing of his friend’s act. He couldn’t wait to see the look on your face once you met the real king…wait…would you meet the rest of his family? Was that something he really wanted? Again, why is Jungkook thinking this far ahead- you don’t even know what you truly mean to him and vice versa. As much as he knows Yoongi lied to him and would never want to step foot up here again, he’s pretty sure the grumpy man would eventually miss you after a while. There was no acting when it came to your friendship with him, that much Jungkook knows is true, he talked about you half of the time- even when he wasn’t reporting to him. 

The matter still remains, was he truly ready to bring you around his dysfunctional family? And why did that spark something foreign in his chest? This is truly bittersweet.

If it weren’t for them, Jungkook wouldn’t have spent most of his time searching for you and going half crazy on your whereabouts. They literally drove him mad and for what? Because he wasn’t moving fast enough?

Fine, it’s fair to say that Jungkook was only being a coward when it came to you. He took his time, because the first time he showed you the real him- you pushed him away…Jungkook didn’t trust his own reaction if he told you how he felt and you didn’t feel the same. However, he never expected to be racing against an ancient curse and maybe…that's why he keeps putting off the truth from you. If you didn’t accept his feelings, he felt like it might truly kill him at the time… now would be the best while he couldn’t feel much right?

The problem is… Jungkook should really tell you about the bond first, because if this does go in his favor and the way his family clearly intended…Jungkook might actually end up completing it.

“—For your information he didn’t die until after I took him away so technically I didn’t kill him in front of you.” He corrects and if you weren’t so bent on figuring out his problem, you would have reminded him that hearing a human’s neck crack that violently is still disturbing enough to have anyone believing the complete opposite. 

“Whatever, Just tell me already.” You wait patiently for him to begin, watching the hard look on his face as he tries to battle his inner turmoil of what to do next. 

He really wanted to skip over this part, but Jungkook felt everything breaking down in an instant. Your thoughts, his hunger, the whispers…why did everything have to be so intense? Honestly he couldn’t take it anymore.

Fuck, is he actually giving in? wait.

“I-...hell.” Jungkook barely mumbles and you notice as his face goes completely blank, but he moves close enough to be a breath away. Jungkook then swallows, eyeing you strangely and though you had to admit while his gaze was drawing a forbidden emotion in your mind- you stare back at him expectantly, waiting for his next move. 

What you’re not ready for however, is when Jungkook’s hands are grabbing both sides of your face abruptly and pulling you towards him. Your body colliding against his hard front. The sheer force of his strength has you calling out in surprise, your face quickly coming so close to his and  he sends the deepest gaze into your eyes before something urges him to close the space. 

He couldn’t help himself, he’s supposed to wait!

 –His lips crash onto yours and catch your breath entirely from the shock of his sudden passion. You could feel your body reacting immediately—heat firing up in your stomach as he waits a second before moving them and you find yourself suddenly clutching his shirt for dear life. You were expecting words not a kiss- and definitely not for him to suddenly take this route with absolutely no cause whatsoever. You just couldn’t complain as a wave of lust shoots over your stiffened body and his minty scent becomes so much stronger to inhale. 

For a long time, there are no words or thoughts, just the feel of his lips molding and his body pressing into you to be closer. You may feel his tight embrace, but you had no idea of the fierceness he was fighting back to do more.

It’s definitely too late.

You guessed he was waiting for you to reject him, but after feeling his tongue swipe over your bottom lip for entrance, you’re more than willing to open your mouth- sighing in content when he slips the muscle in and licks almost desperately against you to get a better taste. His hands leaving your cheeks, Jungkook’s arms then come to wrap securely around your waist like before and he backs you up into the counter, definitely putting more emphasis into how much closer he wants you to him. 

It's not enough for him.

Not long after, you’re being lifted up, finding it hard to let yourself pull away and so does Jungkook. He grips one side of your legs, hoisting you effortlessly onto the counter and the flips in your belly are going crazy as his cold leather pants make contact with the inner parts of your thighs- putting himself comfortably in between. 

He just wants a taste…but something keeps pushing him. His own efforts to fight back are crumbling so easily.

Your mind is still running on another brain wave, one part of you completely lost and the selfish part of you present enough to enjoy the way his mouth is moving against yours, fulfilling the thoughts you were having all this time. 

His lips were just as soft as you imagined and it’s strange suddenly being able to share a moment like this with him. You exhale the breath in your chest, leaning your entire body into him and while melting easily as he shifts towards a sweeter end of your kiss. Your arms come up to wrap around his neck and your eyes shut when your arousal finally makes its way to your panties- no doubt beginning to cause a wet stain.

More, you want more.

Letting the mix of sweet almonds travel up his nose, Jungkook reluctantly pulls himself back, somehow managing to temporarily snap out of whatever urge had taken over him at that moment. Those same burns from earlier lingered on him the longer he felt himself standing there with you, he wished he waited until a better moment to kiss you. It was going to be impossible to control himself from you after this. 

Honestly…Jungkook really doesn’t think he can now.

You didn’t notice it, but he’d been taken by surprise when his vision had gone black out of nowhere, hands vibrating with the need to tear your clothes off. He couldn’t tell whether it was from him or if it was because of the bond pushing, wondering if this was possibly just another hallucination of his. However everything feels fine and you are in-fact sitting helplessly in his arms on your own counter. 

Jungkook just fucked himself once again…he’d only intended for a sweeter kiss as a test, not whatever that was just now. 

He’s left with a powerful hunger and it was running too deep inside him to ignore. Whether it was building up all this time or he’d always had it, Jungkook was overtaken by it and he’s wondering if it could be from the same hunger he felt to devour you. Only now it was dangerous to know there wouldn’t be any remorse if he did right now. This kind of desire was completely consuming him, or at least the mental block was slowly fading off, maybe that would explain why his head was lighting up over and over- until it was sending him into a fuzzy haze.

Jungkook stares down at you, getting a continuous light buzz when you try to chase his lips in return and when he doesn’t reciprocate, your eyes are opening- face stuck in a sinful daze when he hasn’t even touched you yet. 

He doesn’t know how he’s ever held himself from you before…now he’s tasted you and the filthy images racing in his head at the moment had him wanting more. The way he could bend you over your sink, fucking so deep inside you until you only knew him. He was only making himself worse by the minute- salivating as he came to wrap his hand around your neck and his eyes growing to pitch black as if you both were a part of his unusual dark fantasies.

You’re definitely not and there's one thing Jungkook was sure of at this moment…he wants to completely ruin you.

...

Tag List : @thisartemisnevermisses @vampyjk @taeilmom @outro-kook @bishuthot @mwitsmejk @irissilujm @vickyboo @awesomebabyyoda @hanzyyme @gerim-1995 @i-dont-give-a-fok @hwangheiress @hollyverday @seajae @oishee09 @jolinaprincess @yoongibabs​ 

a/n: I’m super sorry if some people couldn’t be tagged but tumblr isn’t allowing it.

#my fic #jungkook fic #soulmates #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #demon jungkook #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop fic #kpop smut #bts #bts j-hope #bts jimin #jimin #bts jin #jin #bts suga #bts jungkook #bts angst #bts fluff #bts soulmates au #Alexithymia #Jeon Jungkook #Min Yoongi #Park Jimin #Jung Hoseok

[stickyredhoney]

Witch Doctor

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Viktor Smut (NSFW)

The beer barrel, capsized and balanced on the uneven cobbled street, wobbled and tilted slightly when you leant more onto your left side. This had been the fourth time the wound on your leg had flared red with irritation these past few months and the cost of treatment was a much better deal economically than performing the routine you had been, to the intensity you had been doing it. The method you had strung together included ingredients that were just too pricey to keep purchasing. You needed actual medical attention, not just some old wives tale that yielded no real results other than a slightly weeping, pink, leg wound.

You had heard rumours of a man, deep in the under city that worked with flesh and blood the way that mechanics work with machinery. A witch doctor, an ethical medical scientist. His methods were not known to be traditional and it was only on substantial occasions that he took on patients at all. You weren’t even sure that your leg would need any treatment, let alone engineering, but you had no other real hope.

His door was hidden away and humble, an alcove of deep red wood. It’s glossy paint job shone green and purple with the fluorescent signs of the street, throwing hoops of dark shadows over its doorstep. You pulled yourself up onto your feet. You felt more stable today than you had been, your leg actually didn’t feel that bad. You felt like a bit of an embarrassment seeking out these services only for on the day of your appointment to feel better, but it was worth a try since the inflammation was still present.

Your knock on the door sounded non existent, the sound was plucked up and swallowed by the street. Hesitantly, you raise your hand to knock again but the door pushes open, ajar.

“I have an appointment?” You ask, questioning and uncertain but unsure why you are doubtful.

The door slides open to reveal a warm orange toned light and a hallway.

“Ah yes, this way please”. You are led inside by a tall man with a thick accent. The house has a scent that’s musky and spiced, although clouded with some sort of chemical scent, as though herbs had been burnt to lessen the scent of other things much more potent. It was strangely homely, not dissimilar to the candles you’d sometimes burn to cover the remnant smell of cleaning products.

As you come into the hallway, the man snakes around you, careful not to touch you or crowd over you in the tight space. Although you are in a secluded location with this man, you feel no sense of danger like you would usually feel in Zaun, you feel oddly comforted by his clumsy attempt to not create personal contact. How unusually professional for the supposed assistant of a witch doctor.

He leads you to the last room in the corridor. One that nestles and hugs the slope of the above staircase and guides you inside. The chemical scent is stronger here and as the door opens its very clear you are at its heart.

‘Step into my workroom and take a seat on the bed in front of me please”. The man states, gesturing you to move forward. This is the first time you have seen his face, you realise. You did not look up at him until he was now to the side of you in the doorway. You decide to repress the awkwardness of thinking he must be an assistant and bury it away, he doesn’t need to know.

“Of course” You reply with a smile and walk towards the central raised bed and perch on its leather.

Now you sit opposite to him, you finally begin to map his facial features. He’s handsome, dark hair falling back to swoop behind his ears, framing his face. Masculine features and almost feline eye structure, he looks pointed, gazing with an intensity that suggests intelligence. You are instantly attracted to him, your eyes don’t cease to gravitate towards him as he asks you questions regarding your leg, like there’s some hole of abyss dragging you, pulling you towards its centre.

“So you say its not positively progressing at all? And you’ve tried many home treatments?” He questions, his eyebrow tilting.

“It seems to repeatedly become inflamed” You reply, “Although I feel like a fraud, it seems to feel a little better today”.

“I appreciate the honesty, so many come to me for the prescription rather than the prognosis. Do you give your consent for me to have a look at the wound?”. He asks, flashing a genuine smile to you at your honest response.

At your response, he points you in direction of a curtain rail above the bed and instructs you to reposition your clothes to give him a better look at the wound. You pull the modesty curtain around yourself and undress, calling to him once you have removed your trousers.

As he pulls the curtain back and steps inside the ring of the rail, he replaces the curtain behind him and you notice a light blush flush his cheeks. He notices that you have noticed and fumbles slightly to explain.

“Ah sorry, I just hadn’t expected you to remove all of your trousers, but as long as you don’t feel like I’m intruding”. He recovers professionally, sitting on a wheeled seat at waist height to yourself.

“ Would you mind tilting the position of your leg a little? The wound seems to be more situated towards the inner thigh.”

You feel the realisation of the vulnerable position that this will put you in but can’t seem to un-see his blushed face from moments before. It’s very clear to you that this situation and the outcome of your medical examination is in your hands. A thought crosses your mind that potentially he’s asking you to maybe move your legs further apart for this reason. A blush creeps under your cheeks too. He notices.

“Or if you would feel more comfortable you could pull the curtain back round and-“

You splay your legs slowly.

A restrained muffled noise escapes his throat. He freezes for a second, his composed behaviour sliding as he is clearly affected by your daring display of your legs and the eye level, directly central view of your underwear. He looks up at your face, reading for your answer, your consent.

His hand is steady as he reaches out to place his palm on your upper thigh, surrounding the wound. He inches further in his chair. The two of you converse lightly and each comment and response renders you infatuated with him. His hands, his care, the way he moves and speaks.

“The inflammation seems fine, it’s natural to suffer a bit of that when having a wound such as this, I have a balm that will clear it up almost instantly if you’ll allow me” He manages. You nod in allowance.

He reaches for a small jar on the metal table to the side of the bed and with his gloved hand, takes some between his fingers and spreads it over the wound. You wince as it feels as though the balm draws all the pain immediately to the surface.

He sympathetically winces too, “I know, I know, that’s the worst part over. I thought it best not to mention the pain, you are over it now anyway’.

He rubs his hand over the wound as it is visibly changing, it no longer feels rough and hardened with bruising. It no longer is an open sore. His hand dances and glides over the skin and it regenerates itself accordingly, moulding and resorting with his touch.

“That’s amazing! That’s cleared up immediately, thank you so much!’ You grin, witnessing a medical miracle when having to pour you energy into attempting to fix that very same problem repeatedly is a special feeling. His hand has not stopped rubbing.

“You are making my job feel very rewarding too, its not too often I have a receptive and grateful patient.” His grin matches your own and it fades into a similar smile though with different connotations. He cocks his head slightly, trying to feel for the tone of the conversation.

“You don’t mind if i- ? Do you? I know its unprofessional but I can’t pretend like that smile you are returning me is not unspoken wants and desires of exactly what I am needing too”. His hand slows to a stop, awaiting your response.

In response, your legs follow your subconscious thought path and spread themselves still slightly further from each other. You lean back, your eyes not leaving his countenance, drinking him, swallowing him whole.

His hand resumes its path, pushing and drawing little circles, shaping the skin like pottery, rising and falling and sliding higher and higher, until he’s reached the laced rim of your underwear. He removes his anointed gloves. He gives one final look for approval and slides his fingers under the fabric. The sliding wetness you have made for him allows him to push in a finger. You moan out, stretching and arching your back at the warmth and sudden feeling of being fuller rather than empty. He studies your face intently with those intelligent eyes, sliding his finger in and out.

Curiosity in the form of his expression, flashes, and the finger returns as two and slides faster and more intent, adopting a slight curve and turn to brush against something you had never felt pressed in that way. You don’t attempt to muffle your noises and he smirks upon hearing them.

“Come closer to the edge of the bed, sweet one, I want to get deeper in you”.

You inch forward and the depth in the updated position is immense, he’s so deeply inside of you, your wetness dripping to the inside of his palm in his curled fingers. He inserts another as you feel it stretch you slightly, pleasurably. You are dripping now. You look down to see him hard and straining against his trousers, desperate for release and friction. You notice droplets of darker coloured spots on his trousers in placement under you, you are dripping on him but he doesn’t seem to mind.

He quickens his pace, curling and bending to the sweet spot inside every time, coming firmly and with precision.

“Can I have you inside me?” You moan out. You hadn’t really given it thought before you pleaded and asked him.

He immediately stands, your entrance waist height. You feel vulnerable at the exact line up of him with you, and you watch as his hands unbutton and free himself. He’s long and curved and he pushes the tip up to the outer lips, sliding it using the clear viscous wet you’ve provided him. Your arousal being used by him to ease himself into you, firstly sliding over your clit and then the dip where he feels he is meant to be. He pushes in and pants out a strangled groan. His hands are holding your hips and he twitches.

In his accent, clouded by pleasure, he groans an ‘Oh Fuck”.

He steadies himself on you and the desk and fucks you. He is soft but firm and keeps a hard, steady pace. He kisses you, deeply, sliding his tongue over yours and moaning into your mouth. Keeping a rhythm, and the slight curve of him brushes the internal point he was building before.

He quickens and pants out, fastening and thickening inside of you, he brings a hand down to rub your clit, using the combined mess from the two of you pooling around his base to slick and glide over you. He slowly brings you up to the point of orgasm as you writhe and beg the table to stay in place, to keep this angle and support your arch so that he might just hit that point in you again and again and again.

He fastens again and you can feel him becoming desperate, his thrusts are becoming more shaky. He feels your point of orgasm, as you tip over, calling out for him, falling over the edge, and uses your contractions and movements to push himself over too, thrusting and swearing and outright whimpering as he follows you to orgasm. The dripping of him and yourself heard as the droplets smack the hard floor.

“Not to worry, I know how to make a great contraceptive”

#league of legends #viktor #viktor league of legends #arcane #fanfic #viktor x you #viktor x reader #viktor arcane #viktor smut

[virgo-dream]

✨ dreamling / fluff / acts of service / mature ✨

SUMMARY: It’s been 10 days since Dream of The Endless was rescued from Fawney Rig by one Hob Gadling, who takes it upon himself to see to Dream’s recovery. While with Hob, Dream is provided with something he’d been missing even before his imprisonment: to be cared for. read ch. 02: healing waters (2,3k+ words) here or on AO3 AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you all so much for the overwhelming amount of love on chapter one!!! For this chapter and the next one, I wanted to try a role reversal of one of my fav scenes from @avelera's absolute masterpiece, Giving Sanctuary. If you've read that, you'll know the scene when it gets to that point. :) happy reading!

The gentle warmth of Hob's arms and chest as Dream rests on them on his way to the kitchen is a feeling like none other. It matches the warmth of his soul, the one he'd seen shine brighter than any other on a poorly lit tavern back in 1389. He lets his head rest on Hob’s shoulder, curling into the safety of his hold. It feels right, somehow, and while he’s usually able to alter his physical form in whatever way serves a situation best, he doesn’t need to; Hob is willing to adapt for him. What a lovely feeling, to not be the one reshaped for the other. And how good it feels to have Hob want to fit with him.

That was, if that was truly what was happening. Dream had misinterpreted Hob's intentions multiple times throughout their centennial meetings, and while he had a feeling that in 1889 Hob had been inching towards something more than just friendship, Dream was not Dream. He was the Lord of Dreams, King of Nightmares. Mystery shaped as a man. Here, he was as weak as any other living creature. If he'd ever had a shot at anything more than friendship, it would have been back then, definitely not now.

"...Dream?"

Hob's voice snaps him out of whatever spiral he'd been currently descending. When he looks up, it's to find a pair of worried brown eyes, with brows knit upwards and a gentle smile. "Hey there. Still with me, mate?"

Dream tilts his head to the side, nose scrunching up a little in disapproval. Was mate some sort of term of endearment now? He knew Hob had not meant it literally. The twisted expression seemed to garner a chuckle out of his strong armed friend, who still had Dream tucked close to his chest. "Alright, I won't call you that. You okay?"

"...yes." It's an effort to speak, it really is. His throat feels dry, and he'd spent so long without exercising those muscles that his usual low register now seemed more like a faint ghost of its old glory. He cleared his throat, and Hob watched every little twitch of the little muscles on his face like he was cataloguing them. Certainly to be better able to predict his outbursts. Humans acted in self preservation, always.

It was hard to keep that belief when Hob's smile of relief didn't seem to unburden him of some deep seated fear of Dream's menace, but only of worry for him. "Alright, let's get you comfortable." 

Dream noticed how all of Hob's efforts in his care were all planned quite thoroughly. He might not have been sure if Dream would want to eat in the kitchen, but Hob was an optimist, and had already left the chair pulled and placed one of the many throw pillows that usually adorned his brown leather couch on the seat as a cushion. When Hob helped him sit down, it was with incredible precision, as if he had experience tending to the injured. Maybe he did, Dream couldn't know. Well, he could have. He just never bothered to. Regret seemed to pile up in his chest.

Hob then reached for a blanket to place over Dream's legs, lastly grabbing a pair of fluffy slippers that he kept in the little shoe closet in the entry hall, then kneeling down to place them carefully on his feet. "Wouldn't want you getting cold feet." He says, and smiles up at Dream before getting back up on his feet and moving to turn the stove back on. 

Dream liked watching as Hob went about his human motions. He knew of those things, saw them in dreams and in the rare visits he made to the Waking. He'd never experienced them first hand, which gave a whole new meaning to having a home cooked meal made for him. Not just for him, but made by Hob for him. It made him feel warm even before the bowl was placed in front of him and the soup poured into it, before the smell of well seasoned peas and of a plate of newly made slices of toast entered his nose, so different from the violence of the smell of iron blood. It's gentle and inviting. Suddenly, his stomach makes itself aware of its own existence, and he can feel his mouth fill with saliva. Dream reaches for the spoon, fingers still a little shaky, but not without warning. "Careful not to burn your tongue. It's still hot."

As his fingers take the cold metal of the silver spoon in hands, the weight feels completely foreign. Not as light as he remembered, not as heavy as it should have ever been. Of the many inconveniences of human existence, fatigue certainly was one of Dream's least favourite to experience. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying his best to hold the spoon. How could he be reduced to such weakness? How could humans take so much from him, when all he ever did was give and give and give. Endless as he was, his patience was limited. He was limited. He could feel the shape of his sister's hands squeezing his chest, the weight of her palm pressed in the centre, sinking the bone in. 

Dream? 

He wanted to puke, but there was nothing in his stomach yet to fuel it. Maybe the bile of his own disgrace, burning his throat on its way up would better serve the purpose of his little pity party.

Dream…? Come back…

Far away, he could hear the sound of metal falling. Was it iron again? A clinking sound, ringing inside his ears, getting louder and louder.

"Dream. Come back to me, Dream."

Warmth substituted the coldness of the metal in his palm. It seemed to chase away the grip of Despair as well, with warm, circling motions on his back. Dream blinked, and the tears swelling on his eyes finally fell. Blue eyes as sacred as those of a doe targeted Hob. To be powerless and insist on emulating power. 

"...is everything okay? Do you want to go back to bed? We can eat in bed if you'd like."

Such kindness, sweet as honey. But even honey can overwhelm the palate.

"...all is fine." A pitiful try at a lie. A merciful play of belief on Hob's part. 

Hob squeezed Dream's hand before letting go, and the freezing cold that took his palm almost seemed to tell him damned if you do, damned if you don't. His caring friend let out a huff of air through his nose, trying to recompose his sunny disposition. He smiles, like smiles can wash all sins away– and maybe for him they do, because who wouldn't forgive Hob Gadling?– Taking the spoon Dream had dropped and setting it across the table. He reached behind him for a clean one on the top drawer, and turned back to Dream. Unwritten agreements. He'd help Dream eat, and wouldn't ask for permission. Dream would pretend it was for Hob's own benefit and not his own. Now in Hob's capable hand, the spoon made its way to Dream's lips, and when it finally entered his mouth, finally poured its content onto starved tongue, the dreamlord was reminded once again that sustenance is also about pleasure. He hums, and as the silver spoon escapes his lips again, he allows himself to look into Hob's eyes. The pride is there again, but Dream reads it as being proud of a job well done. 

Hob finally lets a breath out; he seemed to have kept it in for a while. Humans forgot to breathe too, sometimes.

˜˜˜

Dream didn't know how many of these contracts of good faith the both of them had signed across the last 10 days. He was reminded now that it included, on Hob's part, an offering of unwavering patience and good humour, a gentleness in his motions and a carefully curated tone to his speech. Still, so much spontaneity; in how happy he'd get when Dream finished a meal, when he asked for a little more, and Hob would heat it up just perfectly, pour it in the white porcelain bowl before him. How he'd spread butter on Dream's toast, or brought a glass of fresh water to parched lips. He'd even clean the corners of Dream's mouth with as many napkins as needed, and not say a single thing about it. He didn't gloat, and he certainly didn't ask for any sort of boon. Dream's part of the contract was just this: allow himself to receive care. And while in previous days the Lord of Dreams and King of Nightmares would be offended by the assumption that he needed assistance in being fed, or in anything else, really, that's not the entity sitting on the soft chair in Hob's kitchen. It was Dream, just Dream. His Dream.

The meal, as the others he recalled having while in Hob's care, was perfectly adequate. Perhaps, more than adequate. He'd maybe fashion dreams around him once he was in shape for it, if not only to be able to keep having those meals in the Dreaming. Hob would certainly not want to cook for him forever. Dream let out a little sigh as he was finally done eating, and Hob let his shoulders relax, putting the spoon down and reaching for his own, ready to eat his own dinner. It was time for Dream to watch him, as he used to do in centuries past. Study Hob, catch up with everything he'd missed, even though he didn't have to. Even though he could have chosen to stay.

It was difficult, chasing guilt away. 

˜˜˜

Hob had sat him on the armchair next to the bed, by the open window. It seemed to always be open when Dream was awake, and the suspiciously good weather would usually make the Endless feel like there was meddling of some sort happening, but this was not his own realm, where his temperament reigned supreme. If anyone was lord of the Waking, it was Hob Gadling, and if the Waking bent to his will, sunny skies and soft summer rain would be all there ever was.

Dream could feel the softness of the last rays of sunshine crawling up their place in the sky, painting the room in gentle tones of gold and orange. The gentle summer breeze caressed his cheek, and he allowed his eyelids to close, resting his tired pupils for a bit. Hob's voice brought him out of it almost immediately, or maybe he'd fallen asleep, because the bed was fully made, sheets freshly changed once his eyes opened again. 

"Hello, sleepy head." There was that smile, again. Sunshine as a soul, shining from within. "Thought I heard you snoring there." 

Dream crinked his nose in his usual expression of disbelief, but there was no anger behind it. Maybe a bit of confusion. He was sure he'd only blinked. "I do not snore."

Hob shrugged, and reached to brush the loose strands of black feathery hair away from Dream's eyes, a mirror of what he'd done earlier. "You said you didn't sleep either, but here we are."

He thought to refute Hob, but there was plenty of evidence that he did sleep. 

"Since we're being adventurous today, what about a bath?"

Dream tilted his head slightly, unsure of what exactly was adventurous about a bath. He would certainly not drown, and there was really no need for it. "My body does not require washing." 

Correction: there usually was no need for it. If Dream were to use his powers to keep his physical form clean, he'd exhaust himself and sleep for the rest of the week.

Hob's expression showed an incredible amount of lovingness, almost as if he was watching a child trying to put together the pieces of a jigsaw, but one was far out of reach and he needed to hand it over. "It's not about your body, Dream, it's about your mind. I know you're probably the cleanest being in all of existence. But your mind could maybe use a bath, right?"

How one bathes the mind was clearly beyond Dream's grasp. Humans were funny with how they bent and reshaped their words into new meanings. "...alright."

He wondered if saying yes to Hob had always brought such wide smiles out. How he wished he'd stayed to listen when he had the chance. "I'll get the water ready then!" 

The excitement in Hob's voice made Dream allow himself a smile too, and it seemed to stop Hob from saying whatever it was he was following with. How terrifying it was, to be seen. The smile was gone, and Dream's brows knit close. "Have I done something wrong?"

"–No! Of course not, my friend. It's just. Nice. Seeing you feeling better."

Hob's honestly felt like a caress to the cheek, and perhaps it was the warmth of the imagined touch of his hand on Dream's face that caused it to be tinted in a soft pink shade. Maybe Hob had felt the will of Dream's hand to reach for his cheek, because it now matched Dream's in shade. "I'll. Get the water started."

Dream watched as Hob hurried to the bathroom, and maybe there was awe in his eyes. His own frail palm went to investigate the warmth on his cheeks. I need to be more careful. I would not have him think I wish to take advantage of this arrangement. Of his kindness. Hob is my friend. Hob is my friend. Hob is my friend. I am his Dream.

The sound of water running underscored the speed of Dream's overthinking, and same as the tub, there was no release for the current of thoughts filling up his mind. Dream had always been very attentive and alert to his surroundings. It had been impossible to surprise him, because surprises were never good, and there was only so little distaste he could handle in one endless lifetime. Still, he never had to exercise attention for 100 years straight. That muscle was also strained. When Hob walked up to him, it took Dream a moment to realise he was there. "Hm?"

"Bath is ready." Hob's sleeves were rolled up over his elbows, and his hair was now loosely tied in a short ponytail. He reached out to take Dream's hand. The walk to the bathroom was much shorter than to the kitchen, and Hob had said before that Dream needed to make the effort to walk, even if just a little bit every day. "If you try to walk to the bathroom, I'm granting you with left side of the couch privileges for the rest of the week. You know that's my favourite side." Dream chucked, and Hob's expression seemed to melt, again, into a loving one. "I shall accept your most generous offer."

Their hands were linked once again, and Dream felt a lightness that had been foreign to him even before his imprisonment. He felt like if he was holding Hob's hand, there was nothing he couldn't do. It was time for a bath.

#may dream #dreamling #hob x morpheus #hob x dream #dreamling fic #the sandman fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 author #domestic fluff #hurt/comfort #virgo dream writes

[shushiyuii]

Lush Caves and Lost Fae (Part 1)

Notes: Okay! I finished my exchange for @vermillionfigher ! (Tag doesn’t work aa) This was actually a really fun story to write and I’m really happy with how things turned out with it! Aaaaaa 

(I’m gonna separate it into two parts in case it causes somebody lag)

Prom: Lush cave exploring with the boys (SBI)

Warnings: Mentions of death and neglect, dying of thirst (Dw it doesn’t happen), Kidnapping (Technically speaking), Lots of crying, Running away, Angst, Vore mention and most importantly a very sad Tommy. (If I miss any just let me know!)

Word count: 12,000+ (With the two parts)

Next Part

{...}

The teenager was sprawled out across his bed as he’d usually be, dawn had just arisen and Tommy being the young boy he was, refused to give daylight the sense of day and wake up. He was determined to win against the sun.

Tommy shifted, the springs of his bed complaining under his weight. A shame though as sunlight only attacked his eyes, causing Tommy to shield them with his forearm. ‘Do I have to get up?’, the boy groggily thought.

Tiredly sighing, Tommy sat up as the springs of his bed again complained. It was a really old bed, he’d love to have a new mattress as the springs of his current one liked to scratch at his legs quite often during the night.

But they couldn’t afford another mattress, at least not at the moment. They needed to focus on making money for the upcoming Winter as his caretaker said, even though it was only early Summer. 

Stretching out his bones for the day, he reached for his pair of goggles on the bedside. Smiling as he looked towards one of the cracked lenses, given to him by his mentor. It was one of his most prized possessions.

Combing his hands through his hair in an attempt to tame his wild bed-locks, he placed the goggles on his head, as they belonged. A knock came at his door, indicating it was time for him to get up. 

Letting out an annoyed sigh, he got up and reached towards his dresser, grabbing some random white blouse that was a bit too big but still fit him and a pair of beige shorts. As soon as he put those on, he grabbed his jacket that hung off the door.

A short-sleeved, red-tinted leather jacket. A gift from his caretaker and another thing he owned and particularly liked. Just as he finished getting ready, a knock came from his bedroom door, signalling that it was time for breakfast.

His stomach grumbled at the thought of breakfast, so quickly he made his way to the dining area. The floorboards groaned with each step, the place itself may be worn down but it was stable and comfortable, so he never complained.

Taking a seat at the table, leaning his elbow against the old wood. He looked towards the handy old stove where his caretaker leaned over, tending to the firewood to keep it ablaze. Whatever was cooking was most likely for lunch, probably stew.

Tommy let out a groan at the thought of another stew, the same thing over again. His caretaker quickly turned his head over with a glare, it had no haste but still daunting nonetheless. Okay, maybe he complained once in a while.

His caretaker let out a sigh as he stood up and turned towards a basket, handing Tommy a baked bun as he took his seat at the table. His long pink hair tied back into its usual braid, it was much more well kept than Tommy’s hair, all things considered.

“Listen, uh…”, he paused for a moment, “I know you’re sick of potato stew all the time, but it’s all we really got and all I can really cook.”, he spoke in his usual monotone voice as he ate his baked bun. Tommy only nodded as he bit into his own.

At least by the late Summer, they would have a harvest of apples, it was a time of year he really looked forward to as Techno would make his special recipe of golden apples. It was odd how he managed to turn the apples a different colour and only Techno himself knew the recipe but by the gods it was good.

Not only that, but it sold like crazy. And usually, if Tommy helped out with the harvest, he’d get his share of coins to spend and a golden apple pie, the best pie in the world. And by far it was the best thing he had ever tasted.

The thought lightened up Tommy’s mood as he ate his bun at a faster pace, Techno seemed to notice but didn’t comment, only a smile graced his features. Most people would call his smile a rare sight after Techno’s retirement, but it was simply behind closed doors.

Tommy and Techno’s relationship was odd at best. Although not related by blood, Tommy would consider Techno to be his brother rather than his caretaker, but Techno would always deny the brotherly relationship, instead of painting himself as a simple caretaker. 

{...}

After he argued with the king, the old general retired. Instead of treading dangerous battles for glory, honour and the safety of the kingdom. He now lived on a barely surviving farm and ran a market stall to sell his harvests.

Despite the drastic change, it was much more relaxing for Technoblade. He lived in peace, with no voices that craved the blood of the enemy. Carl, his loyal horse, came to a halt outside of the local bakery.

Techno let out a huff as he jumped down from Carl, the horse turning to him as he did so. What many could say was a blatant stare was more of a fond look towards the horse. Reaching into his satchel and bringing out an apple for the horse.

As Carl bit into the apple, the local baker was quick to greet him with her usual friendly smile. Her name was Niki, although Techno didn’t know too much besides business exchange. She was indeed a sweetheart, sometimes giving Techno leftover baked goods for his hard work.

“Good Morning Sir Techno!”, Niki addressed by his precious title. Despite how many times he corrected her, she insisted on calling him by the title and Techno ended up giving up. Techno greeted her with his usual nod.

As Carl finished his apple, Techno was quick to pick up the crates of wheat that lay in the cart. Niki opened the door for him as he brought them inside. As they finished the exchange, Niki handed him the bag of coins as promised and some baked goods. 

Techno thanked her with a smile and left to run his stall at the market, after that the day went by as per usual. Some looked upon him solemnly as he was the old general. Or with a look of disappointment for his retirement, he had grown used to the matter.

The customer handed him a couple of coins in exchange for some apples. Letting out a sigh as he looked towards the sky, once bright with sunlight had dimmed as the night drew closer. He deemed the customer as the last for the day.

It didn’t take long for him to close up his stall as most of his stock was already on his cart. Carl appeared to be eager to leave, the horse probably being a bit tired himself or bored from standing in one place too long.

Patting the horse on the nose, he was reminded of the baked goods that Niki had given him. They were probably cold by now but they’d still be good to eat. Not wanting them to go to waste, he grabbed the paper bag from his satchel and brought out a biscuit.

Taking a quick bite, Techno hummed at the sweet taste. Niki’s baking had always been really good, perhaps he’d have to learn the recipe at some point. After all, he really could only make a quick stew.

The bag was quickly snatched from his hand rather suddenly, the retired knight was quick to react and grab the wrist of the perpetrator. The thief lashed out as Techno dragged him back towards him, he was quick to notice that the thief was only a kid.

A street rat no less, his clothes were dirty and ragged and his hair was an utter mess. The kid attempted to squirm in his hold, the kid’s free arm that held the baked goods was used to try and fight him off.

But Techno simply stared, unaffected by the kids' attempt to escape. As Techno drew a closer look, the boy was skinny, perhaps a little too much so. He must’ve been starving, the poor kid.

Techno couldn’t blame the kid for trying to take the food, the kid was probably starving and trying to survive. Eventually, a raspy voice spoke, “LET ME GO, YOU SON OF A BITCH!”. Quite the language from a boy so young.

Techno was going to have to socialize, wasn’t he? Despite being a valiant general, Techno had never done much talking except bark orders at his fellow soldiers into battle. He wasn’t exactly the best at conversation.

“Uh- Kid? I’m not going to hurt you or anything. Calm down”, a bit of concern laced his voice. The last thing he wanted was for the child to become scared or run away from him. The boy slowly stopped his squirms and peered open an eye towards Techno. It was quickly turned into a glare.

Techno let go of the kid, and the boy was quick to shove whatever was left of the biscuits into his hand. And just as quickly turned to leave, most likely to never be seen by him again. Techno could only empathize, he had been in similar circumstances once.

“Hey!”, he called out towards the boy, who just as quickly turned back towards him. Techno held out the paper bag towards the boy, the kid hesitated but ended up taking back the paper bag and ran off. 

That was never the last time he saw the boy though.

As days passed, encounters grew more often between the two of them as Techno would hand out more food to the kid. A bond of sorts formed between them, and before he knew it himself. He had taken in the boy for the upcoming winter as he’d never survive.

And the young boy ended up staying, his name was Theseus.

{...}

But despite everything, they were most definitely brothers. Even if Techno were to deny that fact. Techno had raised him from a little thief to a much more capable young man. At least that’s what he believed.

Because Techno would always have to teach him the same things over again such as not to choose violence as your first option after some random guy insulted your best friend’s new haircut. He still chose violence anyways because it was easier.

And even Techno could agree on that front because the man himself wasn’t always easy with conversation. Plus, if he and Techno were in similar circumstances, Techno would easily take on an opponent.

“Hey, Techno! You’re zoning out again!”, Tommy waved his hand in front of Techno’s face to attempt at getting him back in reality. Techno simply huffed in reply as he finished his baked bun and stood up.

Grabbing a cup from the upper shelf and filling it up with water, handing it to Tommy as he returned to his seat. “So, what’s your current assignment?" asked Techno as Tommy began to gulp down the entirety of the water.

“I haven’t really been able to work on any of my assignments due to Sam wanting us to help him with his latest invention, I can’t say much about it but it’s really cool Techno! Amazing! It’s going to change the kingdom for the better!”. Tommy excitedly explained.

Techno couldn’t be more proud of Tommy, once a street boy, now an apprentice under the royal engineer, Sam. When Techno had taken the young boy in, he taught the kid many things such as mechanics. 

He taught Tommy everything he knew about mechanics, they’d fix up an old car sometimes and eventually, Tommy began tinkering with all sorts of things. Being able to pick them apart piece by piece and put them back together perfectly.

One day, a car had broken down in the main plaza and Tommy was quick to help the bloke and his car. It just so happened that The Royal Engineer was passing by and spotted Tommy’s talents and took him in.

Now, having honed his skills, Tommy is a genius and remarkable engineer. He couldn’t be more proud of him. Techno smiled to himself as he stood up from the table and went towards the coat rack where he hung his straw hat. 

Placing it on his head, he turned to Tommy who had also joined him. The boy was quick to open the door and race outside towards the stables, grabbing a handful of wheat along the way to greet Carl.

“Hey, Carl! Hey buddy”, he cooed towards the horse, gently stroking his mane. Carl was his old companion, once his warrior horse and now just a regular one. To give credit where it was due, Carl was an incredibly intelligent horse.

Techno was quick to place the reins on Carl, and prep him for travel. After Carl finished his wheat, Tommy hopped into the cart as Techno took the reins and in routine, they took off towards the kingdom.

{...}

“Alright Kiddo, we’re here.”Tommy hopped out of the cart, grabbing his satchel before he headed off into the building known as the workshop. Patting Carl on the head as thanks, Techno was quick to ruffle his hair when Tommy’s guard was down.

Tommy glared sharply at Techno, but the man feigned ignorance and pretended the act of affection had never happened. He let out a huff as Techno began to lead Carl away from the building. Bitch.

Tommy passed through the squeaky doors and walked down the stairs towards the basement where both his colleagues were. Placing his satchel on a random desk, he stretched and approached his colleague.

His colleague was quite a bit shorter than Tommy, making him perfect to lean on. Despite this, the colleague remained unaffected and continued working on his given task. “Tommy, get off, will you?”, his colleague attempted to shake him off.

His little companion, best friend and arch-nemesis, Tubbo Underscore. He and Tubbo met at the workshop and have gotten along ever since, becoming best friends in fact. Tubbo, or Sir Tubbo as he really should be addressed.

Tubbo was from a noble family that worked directly underneath the king, his father was the king's, right-hand man. Though Tubbo never cared to fuss about the etiquette or rules he was supposed to follow as the next in line to become the next lord of the family. 

Tubbo was never a fan of formalities, preferring simplicity over anything. His family could be rather demanding at times and he could never express his passions or talents there, so the workshop was his escape. Normalcy. 

Tommy only huffed, moving himself to sit on the desk, one leg on the desk as the other hung loosely. It was then that Tubbo turned his attention from whatever he was working on and toward Tommy.

 Tommy smirked in greeting, as he leaned in closer to inspect Tubbo’s tinkering. It appeared to be a music box, but Tommy knew his best friend well enough to know that the music box wasn’t simply just a music box.

“What’s the twist, this time?”, he questioned and Tubbo was quick to finish up the tinkering and handed it off to Tommy. Curious, Tommy began to pull the handle as a small melody began to play. The pace of the song began to quicken as Tommy further pulled the handle. 

 He let out a yelp as something jumped out of the music box, he almost threw the box towards the wall. Tubbo laughed at his reaction and Tommy could only huff in response. On further inspection, Tubbo had adjusted a mechanism so that at the end of the melody, it would jump out.

Quite scary, yet entertaining nonetheless. Besides being his best friend, Tubbo was secondly his rival. The two of them fought for Sam’s attention, hoping that one day they would someday get the position as the Royal Engineer.

Tommy didn’t stay with Tubbo for too long as he had to let his boss know he was here. And so, he went towards Sam’s latest project and found him welding some metal. The man didn’t take long to notice Tommy’s presence. 

“Tommy. Hello!”, He waved as he placed his torch to the side, taking off the protective mask as he greeted Tommy with a pat on the shoulder. Tommy returned it with his smile, looking towards the invention in front of them.

The three of them had been working on the project for the past couple of months and after much hard work,  it was finally near enough done. It was a special device designed to cooperate with magic.

And the machine would be able to use that magic to create a gigantic, protective barrier over the kingdom. Keeping away unwanted visitors such as the creatures like vampires, werewolves, sirens and fae.

Essemore was a kingdom of humans and humans were natural prey for the outside creatures and were constantly at war with them. To combat it, a barrier was created to stop them. And it was missing one final piece.

What it required was a magical object, powerful enough to create the barrier. An ordinary person wouldn’t be able to fuel the barrier, even if they had powerful capabilities. And ever since they started, Sam handed out a commission for anything magic related.

So far, nobody has come back with an object powerful enough. And so, it wouldn’t be used for a while until they got the object. Even though they had worked so hard on it. 

Sam ended up tasking Tommy with some maintenance and perhaps upgrading things as he saw necessary. A couple of hours of work passed, Tubbo ended up joining him in maintenance and it was finally finished.  

The three of them looked up towards their latest piece of work, admiring it in all its glory. It was an invention that could change the world and they were excited about the discoveries and possibilities they had yet to find.

“Congratulations Boys!”, Sam wrapped each of his arms around the boys, pulling them into a side hug. “Without your guy's help, this wouldn’t have been possible. And I couldn’t be more proud of how far you guys have come.”.

Tommy leaned into the side hug, proud of not only himself but also his team for the hard work. Surely, great things were soon to come. “Y’know, I’ve got a surprise for the two of you since you’ve both been working hard”.

Sam ruffled both of their heads as he said that Tommy's goggles fell off his head onto his eyes clumsily. The other two laughed at the sight as Tommy fixed the position of his goggles, grumping while doing so.

After that, he continued, “I’m rewarding the two of you with a vacation!”. Tubbo and Tommy looked at each other in confusion, Sam only smirked. “Come on! Don’t look so confused, the both of you deserve the break!”.

Tommy was joyful at the thought of the vacation but couldn’t help but feel as though something was incomplete. And well, it was the invention that was bugging him. After so much work, it wasn’t going to be used for a while without an object.

But what if Tommy himself found the object?

{...}

Perhaps his plan wasn’t exactly the best, but the vacation was the perfect opportunity to search for an artefact! Anything! It was just exciting for a chance to get out of the kingdom. Though, perhaps he should’ve told Techno about his little expedition?

“I should probably head back”, he muttered to nobody but the wilderness. Tommy knew himself well, he was known to be reckless. He was going to get an earful from Techno by the time he got back.

It was too late to turn back now though, he had already left the walls of the castle with a couple of days worth of food and water. Plus, it wasn’t as though he was going to be out longer than that duration. He didn’t intend to go too far off.

He just needed to find a magical artefact that was capable of powering a machine for centuries within a couple of days. There was no problem at all, none at all! Though, he couldn’t help but feel afraid.

He was out in the wilderness, every small ruffle of the bushes was enough to send him on edge. It was probably a good thing considering the creatures that were out in the woodlands. For example, a werewolf.

Otherwise known as Lycanthrope, werewolves were known as creatures of the night. Mankind could shift into wolf-like forms, whether it be full-on wolf or humanoid. They were immensely dangerous and territorial but had a weakness in silver.

Techno would often tell him tales of the creatures he encountered before or what he’s heard about them, warning Tommy of their dangers. Out of the many he would talk about, the most he talked about were that of the fae.

Fae, otherwise known as fairies were manipulative and captivating trickers. Though never lying, they would falsely promise to get a nice reaction from their prey. They lurked in fairy rings, circles of flowers, mushrooms or anything.

Thanks to Techno’s rambles, he practically had all their rules memorised to a tea. For example, never give your name, never say please or thank you, never step within the ring, never lie, be polite, and never accept any form of gift or food. 

Though, from what Techno had told him. They were rather interesting creatures, he’d like to meet one if it weren’t for the fact he’d be simple food for them. Shaking his head, he had to focus on the task at hand. Find the artefact.

Tommy took the chance to admire the scenery, although living on a farm, the land was always bland and never as crazy and magical as a forest ever was. The number of different flowers he saw with vibrant colours, he almost wanted to make a flower crown with them.

It was beautiful, and it’d been a while since Tommy had seen some nature that wasn’t simply growing plants. He took some time to look up towards the bright blue sky with the filtering white, fluffy clouds.

For the first time in a while, he felt free. Free of stress and responsibility. He felt like almost a kid again, making him want to succumb to his childish desires and run around like a wolf in the forest.

Well, a little bit of fun couldn’t hurt? And so, he ran throughout the forest. Marvelling at the sights he saw, beautiful streams with lily pads, unexplored caves, trees as tall as him, plants that most likely poison him, and the small adorable critters.

Though, his fun didn’t last as long as he’d liked. As Tommy had again been reckless, perhaps dangerously so as he lost his footing. He scrambled to grab onto anything, anything to hold onto.

But nothing.

A scream escaped him as he plummeted into the caverns deep below. The next thing Tommy knew, everything had gone blank.

{...}

A groan of pain escaped the young boy as he regained his consciousness. A gasp escaped him as he was quick to sit up, although a mistake as pain sored up his back. Although painful, it was bearable.

And Tommy crouched on his knees, looking up at his surroundings. It was quite the fall as he could barely make out the sunlight above, how wasn’t he dead? It was as though it were a sort of miracle.

His hands turned to fists anxiously, and the flowers under his fingers crumbled. The flowers must’ve cushioned his fall somewhat, and that itself was a miracle. He questioned how he was supposed to escape? No idea came to mind.

He was stuck.

Trying to take his mind off of things, he took the time to observe his surroundings. Surprisingly, the cave was lush in nature. Each edge was either covered in moss or vines that grew from the ceiling above.

The cave floor was covered in grass, surrounded by beautiful flowers and mushrooms. There were small bushes and trees, strangely. Though despite all his questions, it was beautiful. Just as beautiful as the forest above.

Tommy couldn’t help but notice the small crystals that emerged from the walls, each one vibrant and making the entire cavern seem magical. He believed he had heard about this cave, it was known as a lush cave.

Techno had told him about it, hidden caves were beautiful scenery. He took the opportunity to stand up and explore. As he threaded through the cave, he grew suspicious as he felt as though he was being watched.

“Hello? Is somebody there?”, a soothing voice called out to Tommy. The voice sounded musical in tone, captivating. He wanted to see who had that voice, yet he only stopped in his steps. Why would someone be down here?

Unless it wasn’t a person.

Tommy’s suspicion turned to fear as whatever was around the corner would most likely have a desire to feast on him and with how the voice was alluring him. It was that of a fae, probably one of the most dangerous of all.

 The fae was definitely nearby with how close the call was, no wonder he had heard Tommy. And now he’d have to be careful of the fae, be aware of its tricks and keep a distance. Tommy gulped nervously as he turned the corner.

What he saw was indeed a fae, a handsome one of that. He sat upon a rock, scanning around cautiously for whatever he had heard. He hadn’t seen Tommy just yet, and well Tommy couldn’t help but look at his features.

The fae had short, curly brown hair that covered one of his eyes,  a streak of blonde hair was also there. He had yellow eyes that were just as bright as the sun, white freckles adorned his cheeks with a rounded pair of glasses.

Fae were known to look mostly human, though the fae he saw had pointy ears, a pair of deer-like antlers on the top of his head, and not only that but the fae’s lower half was entirely deer-like in structure, no human legs to be seen.

He wore an oversized yellow sweater, but the collar of his blouse was still visible. Another thing to comment on would be the size of the fae, from what he had heard fae were about the same size as humans.

This one though towered over him, at least by 10 feet. The fae finally seemed to have noticed Tommy as he looked in his general direction, a smile graced the fae’s features with pointy teeth.

Even beautiful, still a monster. “Oh- Why hello there, my little fawn! Did you fall from above by chance?”, The fae stood up with concern expressed over his features. Do not fall for his tricks.

Not wanting to be rude, he answered with a shake in his voice. “Yes, I did sir.”.The fae hummed and stopped near a couple of brown mushrooms which he presumed were the fairy ring. At least he was safe, technically speaking.

“Are you hurt?”, Tommy shook his head in reply. The fae gave another friendly smile, though he couldn’t help but feel as though there was something sinister behind the smile. 

“Ah- Perhaps some introductions are due? My name is Wilbur, whatever is your name my little fawn?”. Tommy could almost cringe at the nickname, he had only just met the fae and yet he was already trying to taunt and give his name.

“My name is Tommy, it’s a pleasure to meet you Mr Wilbur”, Wilbur’s eyes subtly narrowed as his smile turned into a mischievous smirk. It appeared that the fae was already aware that Tommy knew.

“Quite clever, my little fawn. You know what I am, don’t you?”, the fae looked as though he were entertained as he leaned upon his elbow. Shivers crawled down Tommy’s spine, whatever happened next he’d need to be careful. 

“It’s been quite a while since I met somebody like you. I do hope you will give me a challenge, won’t you, my little fawn?”. He focused on the fae’s eyes, stepping forward, the eyes zoned in on his location.

Their gaze reminded him of that of a predator lurking on its prey, the fae was focused itself. The fae didn’t appear frustrated with a lack of response, his smile only growing as he continued to keep his eyes upon Tommy. 

“Let’s see how long you’ll last..”.

{...}

After the first encounter, Tommy ended up settling beside a tree that was a little distance from the fae. Because he needed to be polite to the fae, that would mean responding to his calls so it was a simple precaution.

Tommy would’ve much preferred to be in any form of isolation than being hunted down by a fae. As for said fae didn’t quite seem too keen to leave Tommy alone. Pretending as though the previous conversation had never happened.

He had told the fae or Wilbur that he was going to settle down nearby, and just over some trees, he could see tall antlers peeking out from between the leaves. He was being watched, and Tommy wasn’t quite sure how to feel about the entire thing.

Once he’d returned, Wilbur sat back down with that usual uneasy smile. Unfortunately, Tommy had no equipment nor experience to get out of the cave on his own and he’d probably die trying to.

So either he tried and failed, or got eaten by the fae. Tommy wasn’t sure what was the better option, he hadn’t given up though. There was a chance that Techno would come looking for him and rescue him.

Or maybe the fae was his other possibility of escape? Though the chances of that were close to none. 

“Tommy? Little fawn? Is everything alright?”, Tommy snapped out his thoughts. Right, he was talking with the fae, probably best to concentrate on that rather than a means of escape. He wants to survive as long as possible.

“Oh- S-”, he almost apologised, “Yeah, I’m fine. I was just thinking about a couple of things. I didn’t mean to disturb your speaking, Mr Wilbur”. It felt as though he was sucking up to someone in authority, instead this time it was the food chain.

“Quite alright. Although if something is on your mind, care to speak about it? It isn’t the healthiest thing to allow the mind to cloud.”, Wilbur concerned, looking strangely worried. Though it was all an act.

Yet, the fae was probably the only thing that would keep him from insanity. “Oh- I’m just thinking about somebody, my family to be exact. They’ll be worried to find out I’m trapped down here.”. The fae nodded with a gentle smile.

“Do tell about your family, won’t you? Perhaps speaking about them will make you feel better, my little fawn?”. Tommy attempted to get himself more comfortable against the rock, bringing his knees to his chest as he looked toward the fae.

“I guess- I only have one family member, his name is Techno. He’s my caretaker but he’s more like a brother to me. He used to be a cool guy! Still is- but now he’s retired, and now I live with him on a farm.”.

“He was the previous general for Essemore, a really powerful warrior and nobody could stop him! But he stopped after an argument with a king, I tried asking about it but never went into much detail, just something about a war? I think.”.

The fae looked intrigued by Tommy’s rambles, the usual smile had turned to a much more relaxed one. At least he wouldn’t be alone, even if the fae appeared to be rather annoying. Better than nothing, he supposed.

{...}

People said sleeping out in the open nature was a luxury. And Tommy believed those fated tales, but they were mere lies. Tommy couldn’t sleep at all during the night, he felt cold and uneasy.

Not only that but he felt as though he had been watched, as though something was in the shadows. Perhaps Wilbur wasn’t the only creature around, he’d have to be careful when he further explores if he bothers to do so.

Feeling peckish, he opened his satchel for food. Bringing out a squished piece of bread, he grimaced at his amount of food. He only had another piece of bread and a bottle of water, which he’d drink shortly.

With these supplies, Tommy would only last up to a couple of days. He could only hope that Techno would find him in that time, it was his only hope. Otherwise, he didn’t even want to think about it.

Stuffing the piece of bread into his mouth, Wilbur appeared to have heard him or something as he heard the rustling of the trees. Though Wilbur couldn’t approach him, he spotted the fae staring down at him as he leaned against a tree branch.

It was a creepy sight but didn’t bother to comment on it. Standing up, he approached the fae like he did the other day. Wilbur sat down beside him, in the distance for the fae ring. “Good morning, my little fawn. Did you rest well?”.

Tommy shook his head, “Not really”. Wilbur let out a calming hum, his eyes narrowed as though in thought. Tommy hung his head curiously which caught Wilbur’s attention, he looked as though he’d been caught off guard. Before his usual smile returned.

“Sleep doesn’t always come easy, I’m afraid. Especially considering the circumstances, if it makes you feel better. I’ve gotten you a gift, maybe that’d make you feel better?”, Wilbur turned to grab something from the bushes.

When shown to Tommy, it was an emerald pair of earrings. They looked well taken care of as the jewels shined under the daylight. They looked high quality as well, they’d be worth quite a bit. 

Tommy was perplexed at the gift, Wilbur had only known him for a short time and here he was, offering an expensive gift. It was no doubt another trick up his sleeves, he wouldn’t allow it. After all, you should never accept a gift from that of the fae.

“Oh- Wilbur…”, What was he supposed to say again? “I’m honoured that you offer me such a wonderful gift but I’m afraid I won’t be able to accept it.”, Wilbur’s smile turned to a frustrated look, he wasn’t happy.

Great. “You see, with such a generous gift such as this one. I would never be able to repay your kindness as I am just a mere human with no possible way of repayment. With all due respect Mr Wilbur, I must regrettably reject your gift”.

The fancy talk was draining, did Techno have to talk like this all the time back at the castle? Must’ve been exhausting. Wilbur’s look went from frustrated to disappoint, taking the gift away to the side before he turned back to Tommy.

“It’s quite alright, my little fawn. Perhaps another time, how about we discuss something else? Would you be inclined to tell me of your life upon the surface?”, Wilbur’s peeked with interest as he sat criss-cross on the floor, looking at Tommy expectantly.

Tommy hesitated for a moment, but he’d already upset Wilbur and he didn’t want to end up being cursed or even Techno by chance. He would have to comply with Wilbur’s request, plus it was something to talk about.

“Okay, well I guess to begin would be that I was an apprentice, under The Royal Engineer. I worked there with my best friend, and my only friend.”. Wilbur looked confused at Tommy’s words.

“Engineer? What is that?”, Tommy looked back to Wilbur with his confusion. He thought fae were all-knowing creatures, did he not know what an engineer was?

“Oh- It’s just a job. Where you work with machines and stuff.”, Wilbur nodded knowingly though Tommy could tell he didn’t understand. It was a bit funny, perhaps he won’t be too bored after all.

{...}

Tommy looked down worriedly at his satchel, with one piece of bread and only some water left. He debated eating that day, he could ration it for another day. But Techno said that he should always keep up his strength.

Plus, he remembered the days of the streets. Of starvation, he didn’t quite want to feel like that again. He’d been at death’s door many times, he was just lucky that Techno had taken him in or who knows what would’ve happened.

Perhaps he could find another source of food? There were plenty of mushrooms and he’d heard they were edible at least brown ones. So, at least he wouldn’t immediately die of starvation. And with that realisation, he ate his last baked bun.

Water though, there was no option for. There were no sources of water, the only one he had found was the one in Wilbur’s fairy ring. Speaking of the fae, he called out to Tommy. And Tommy went to go talk to him once again.

He attempted another trick, promising to show Tommy something if he stepped within the fairy ring. But Tommy managed to ignore the trick, he was beginning to grow tired.

{...}

Two days had passed, luckily the mushroom Tommy had been eating wasn’t poisonous and had a stable amount of food. Yet, the other day he had run out of water. He attempted to get another drop out of his bottle, yet nothing.

He hoped that Techno would find him soon enough, otherwise he’d die of thirst than starvation. And he wasn’t sure what was quite the better option. Allowing Wilbur to take him, or wait it out as he slowly died.

He wanted to cry, he was running out of options. It had been 4 days since he’d gotten stuck in the cave, a miracle he’d survived so far. Sighing as he pushed away his emotions, he yet again went to meet back with Wilbur.

As he stood, he felt subtly dizzy. It had only been about a day without water. He was scared but chose to ignore his symptoms.

When he approached the circle, Wilbur looked to be eating on a fancy plate, on top of it was a slice of cake. It looked almost as delicious as Niki’s baking, he wanted to eat it.

Beside Wilbur was another slice of cake on a separate plate, it was then he noticed Tommy. Greeting him sheepishly, “Oh hello again, my little fawn! Are you doing well?”, he attempted to hand Tommy the piece of cake with a smile.

Tommy only shook his head, “Thank you for the offer Mr Wilbur, but I’m afraid I’m not hungry.”, he was hungry, mushrooms weren’t as filling as you’d like them to be. Not only that but they tasted disgusting.

Wilbur only smirked in victory.

{...]

#mcyt g/t #mcytg/t #dsmp g/t #tw vore mention #Shushi's writing #Sizeshifter!wilbur #sizeshifter!phil #tiny!techno #tiny!tommy #Tubbo and Sam are also in the fic but just here #Lush caves and lost fae au

[redmoonwanderer]

Lessons

Prompt: Grand companies Wondrous Tails Masterpost

Summary: Taking the eager but inexperienced recruits out for a mission is never easy, and usually, it’s the Warrior of Light who pays the prize. Characters: WoL OC, Alphinaud Leveilleur, Thancred Waters

________

Alphinaud doesn’t lift his eyes from the book he’s reading when he hears the door to Rising Stones open. The rhythm of the steps is familiar enough, even if the clanking of the armor is a rarer thing to hear.

It’s when he picks up on the dragging of metal (that he knows to be a larger-than-should-be-legal sword) against the stone floor that he does look up, because that’s almost unheard of as the warrior has respect for his weapons.

He nearly slams the book on the table in his rush to get up when he sees Qhol’a. “By the Twelve, are you alright?!”

The large sword Qhol’a placed against the wall, perhaps too tired to carry it any further, falls down, almost as if it’s just as tired as its owner. The sound gets the attention of a few others present, and their faces reflect Alphinaud’s words, somewhat worried by whatever new terror might have found their star this time.

To say Qhol’a looks tired and beaten is an underestimation. He looks exhausted. He looks like someone dragged him through the streets by his feet before tossing him into a room full of hungry beasts. Yet still, he waves his hand to say he’s alright (to the relief of all, as it is a sign of “no apocalyptic threats”, and people return to their conversations), but the way he sits heavily by the table with Alphinaud, like he’s literally carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders once more, says otherwise.

“What happened?” Alphinaud asks, unsure as to what could possibly get the experienced Warrior of Light, master of many a trade, into such a condition.

Qhol’a takes out a soul crystal, and with a whoosh, the familiar, more comfortable-looking dark leathers of a mage replace the black-and-red heavy armor. “I visited Maelstrom, took three recruits for a mission to see how they’d fare,” he says, voice low and gravely like he’d just woken up.

“Oh,” Alphinaud says quietly. “The healer didn’t heal, I take it?”

Qhol’a banging his head against his arms on the table is all the answer he needs.

Feeling some of his worry fade away knowing that their friend hadn’t encoutered something far worse, Alphinaud offers a small, empathetic smile. “Would you perhaps like something to eat? After I see to your wounds, of course.”

The warrior waves his hand lazily in reply that he reads as a yes, a gesture that somehow reminds him of his sister. He promises to be back in a moment, and heads to F’lhaminn to ask for something to eat and drink for their friend. When he hears the main door open again, he glances over his shoulder to see Thancred walk in, considerably less beaten than Qhol’a.

When the Hyur walks past the table, he doesn’t take much notice at first, but then stops to take a second look at the Miqo’te. “What herd of angry beasts did you anger?” he asks, brows rised.

Alphinaud takes the tray F’lhaminn offers – mostly leftovers from the meal earlier – and walks back to the table. “Some green adventurers merely thought that our friend wasn’t in need of healing,” he replies for Qhol’a, who doesn’t seen to be in mood for words at the present.

“The Company recruits? That doesn’t spell anything good, even for someone on my level, if the rumors are to be believed,” Thancred says, taking a seat by the same table.

“Perhaps we should offer some lessons,” Alphinaud says as he begins to channel his healing into Qhol’a, who seems to relax some as the pain washes away and any of the lingering injuries fade.

“I thought that was a job for our friend, here,” Thrancred replies, picking an apple from the plate before anyone can stop him. But since Qhol’a doesn’t even attempt to do so, it seems he doesn’t mind much.

“Most joined because they were inspired by his deeds. It would not surprise me if they are too busy trying to impress him to take any lessons to heart.” Alphinaud lowers his arms and gives Qhol’a a once-over. He seems better, now, if only in need of a nap. The Miqo’te nods in thanks before he straightens on his seat and begins to enjoy the food, apparently content on not adding his opinion in the mix (though this was hardly the first time something similar had happened, so they had an idea).

“Well,” Thancred leans forward on the table, “if he asks me nicely, I might even consider it.”

Qhol’a glances at him, but his expression betrays nothing. Alphinaud has a feeling he will not be begging.

“At any rate, I would suggest you take proper time to rest and recover before you venture out with the recruits again,” the Elezen says. He knows Qhol’a won’t need much time at all, but this is his Medically Given Permission to say no should they come knocking the very next day.

Qhol’a finishes his drink and places the empty mug on the table, pausing. His face is serious as he stares ahead, and somehow, when he slowly nods, Alphinaud has a feeling he’ll be finding a reason to head to the Far East for a while sooner rather than later.

Perhaps for the best.

#wondroustailsofffxiv #ffxiv #writing tag #thancred waters #alphinaud leveilleur #i've done some stuff with the squadron #and they were happy to let me die #they are horrible adventurers #didn't mean to illustrate this #but look at me #i actually did and spent very little time on it!

[fascinationuniformed]

And the special smile came out. Devon knew that he was in for something, be it good or bad, punishment or pleasure. Well, either way, it was handled gently and pleasurably, just the way his sensitive skin liked it…

The soft Irish growl quickly followed suit. “Boytoy, I’ve got something to share with you.” Devon immediately blushed, his special name cueing a bit of a special personality, someone no one else got to see…

Boytoy very shyly hopped up onto the counter, seated right in front of Seamus but cowering below him, looking shyly up into His eyes. Its feet nervously kicked a little, its shy and submissive nature coming out a little stronger in its cheeks. Seamus smiled, continuing, “Do you know the store that Mr. S stopped by yesterday, and picked up something?”

Boytoy nodded. The bike store that wasn’t really a bike store. It was a front for local fetish artists to work with spandex, leather, many other arts… but not many people knew about it yet. It thrived, but only just survived, usually thanks to some generous donor or anonymous celebrity donating for some very expensive projects or renovations. Mr. S gently placed the package onto Boytoy’s lap, where it could curiously fondle the brown cardboard.

‘Compression shorts’, the printed label sticker said, with Devon’s size written down following it, and a ‘custom air pump for precise pressure’. It wasn’t very big, only about as big as his lap, with the lid very securely slotted into place. Boytoy pointed to the lid, struggling with it just slightly, as Mr. S smiled and helped his Boytoy open it. The shorts were very tight fitting as it slid up its legs, Boytoy’s ‘little man’ sliding into a perfect pouch. Seamus must have taken very good measurements… The latex slid very smoothly around it, perfectly encasing Boytoy with the shimmery gray and black interior.

“Everything feels nice and comfortable, right? And they look like soft compression shorts, don’t they?” Boytoy nodded, Mr. S slyly pulling out a pocket bike pump from the box… but there was a special adapter on the end which came off and could be stored in the handle, with a cute little clip that would fit perfectly on Devon’s actual bike… It was very petite, with about eight inches of length, and enough hose to fit on the countertop right between Boytoy’s legs. Mr. S showed His Boytoy how to gently slide the valve into the (hidden but normal) compression valves, the cute one giggling and squirming slightly while enjoying the tightened thighs.

“Now…” And the special grin grew even wider… “The special pocket. I’d very much like to share this with you. Would you like this, Boytoy?”

“Yes, Mr. S. Please, uhm, please pump my cock up and put it in your shorts, pump it up real big please, Sir…” Seamus adjusted himself, biting his lip at the thought. His little boytoy really knew how to dirty talk to his Mister… The pump slowly yet forcefully drew in air, pressurizing the inner canal more and more. Five pumps later, a sizeable bulge lay almost on top of the shorts, the inner pocket firmly inflated and pressed against the Boytoy’s normal bulge.

Boytoy squealed, whimpering and pressing against the counter until Mr. S grabbed his face very gently. “Devon, I’d like you to come back again, so we can talk.”

“Yes Seamus…” He dreamily whined, still rubbing and humping, but much more slowly, before getting off of the counter and standing still.

“Devon, you need to make sure the inner pocket doesn’t burst, so be very careful if you decide to touch or rub against something. I expect a call at lunch, with the bike pump brought along. Remember, these are standard compression shorts for your coworkers. You’re getting more exercise for Me. You’re being a healthy and fit good boy.” Those words made Devon shudder happily, but nod understandingly. He wouldn’t touch much unless Seamus allowed it.

“It’s very close to a cage, which is one of the things I’ve been realllly itching for, but I’m using up this week’s Dom time and a half to put you in this. It’s so arousing to me, so it would please me very much if you did touch during work and such, and were kept on edge all the time… or as much as you can. I love you, and I want you to know that I’ll let you cum when you get home and can Toy around at home. Understand, Devon?”

Devon smiled very widely. “Okay, Shay, I was a little hesitant at first, but I think that I’ll be able to hide it. I love you too. I probably need to get to work soon…”

After his bike to work, and the obvious stares, Devon headed into his office. The pressure up until then had been unbearable, and Seamus had allowed him to relieve much of it in order to properly mount his bike. He was down to one full pump, yet the pressure was still forceful and commanding. It was almost as if he was being led around by the soft yet firm pressure… his eyes refocused on his work, Seamus’ help kicking back in. They had talked about very simple hypnosis and mind tricks, which he had graciously accepted (besides BT) but never really agreed to anything too difficult. His pressure led him to the bathroom, where he rubbed up against the stall for a quick ‘bathroom break’. Unfortunately, the zipper’s brief freedom didn’t change the pressure against him, and almost seemed to speed up his peeing.

“Uh, Devon? You… you alright?” One of his coworkers’ voices from the other stall. Apparently his grunting had caught the attention of others…

“Yeah, Brayden, just some compression shorts. Seamus has been getting me into racing, and he wants me to wear these in preparation for the monthly loop. It’s really messing with me, though.” He blushed deeply, and he was glad he’d chosen the stall rather than the urinal.

“Mmm… I definitely understand. There’s this little bike shop I go to every once in a while, and let me tell you, they have really good compression shorts. If you bought them locally, make sure to tell Seamus that he got a great deal.” Oh wow… Brayden??

“Yeah, will do! I’m not sure I’ve heard of it, nor seen you there, although you could have been wearing something else…” He quickly pulled out his phone, texting Seamus a quick thank you and a ‘watch out for Brayden next time you’re there’.

“Well, I’m usually in a full tracksuit with helmet and some water bottles and lights, you understand. But next time I see you, I’d love to give you… a few more tips.” Brayden laughed, drying his hands with paper towels. Goodness, a full gimpsuit… and the code for ‘helmet’ and ‘water bottles’ and ‘lights’… Brayden was a total freak!

“I… uh, My queue is full, if you understand.” Devon responded back with what Seamus told him.

“Oh, of course, absolutely. I won’t expect our work relationship to change, although I might bring my own shorts to the office. Got the monthly loop to prepare for, don’tcha know.” His grin was relaxing, and he quickly patted Devon on the shoulder. “I’m sure you know a few of the Rules of the Road as well.” And Brayden winked, finally leaving the restroom.

Devon returned to his desk, taking a few full gasps of air. What had even just happened??

He’d better call Seamus… and touch underneath his desk. Seamus would like that.

  Devon and Seamus?

[luvwestwood]

JJK Characters & What They'd Drive - But It's Oddly Specific

netflix banner made by me!

notes. a new series made by me! I obviously want to try making some stuff that's not nsfw for once 💖 no bc I was laughing my head off typing this all out, I definitely had to include photographic evidence in these descriptions for that immersive experience. hope y'all enjoy these as much as I did 😭😭

characters. gojo satoru, nanami kento, nobara kugasaki, suguru geto, megumi fushiguro, toji fushiguro, sukuna ryomen, yuji itadori, mahito, choso kamo, hiromi higuruma

Gojo Satoru - Mercedes GT 63 S.

Equipped xenon lights to match his eyes. All black , spotless and sleek interior, he fucking loves cars that has so many screens on it's dashboard. Sometimes he doesn't even know what half of the buttons are for. If you tell him you're thirsty he'd whip out a mini-fridge full of crisp Fiji water. Sparkling or still.

But the thing is even though it’s a luxurious car he'd totally have one of those feet car fresheners. If you carpool with him he would make sure you cashapp him that 20 dollar gas money or else he’d actually leave you on the side of the street. He definitely has a portable microphone stashed away in one of the compartments to yell at people on the street and make fun of them with the students. The students would tell him to floor it everytime they're about to drive over a speed bump, and hell yeah he does it.

Nanami Kento - A 2023 Maserati GT Trofeo.

I feel like he does love luxury cars - but nothing too showy like a Lamborghini, or McLaren. He definitely still wants that luxurious comfort but something just to get to and from work in style. Definitely in a darker nardo grey, or black, but I don't see him putting a matte wrap on his cars. He definitely likes it glossy. His car would smell like sandalwood and leather, that nice fresh smell after your car has just been cleaned. I also feel like he'd drive the smoothest out of everyone, and he drives with one hand. His watch compliments his cars always, and he definitely loves to drive around the city to de-stress after an exhausting overtime. Definitely would offer to give you a ride home if its late at night, and would make sure the air conditioning is just right.

Suguru Geto - BMW 2022 4 Series vibes.

Definitely in that BMW San Remo Green colour, and coupe. (3 doors not 5) - so he could avoid carpooling cause he lowk hates giving people rides. definitely keeps antibacterial wipes in his glove compartment compartment to wipe the seats every time someone gets a ride in his car and goes, ik he has a small paintbrush stowed away somewhere to dust away the particles on his dashboard. I know he uses Yankee car fresheners, if you fart in his car bro is kicking you out and will tell you to take the bus.

Nobara Kugasaki - Mint green Volkswagen beetle.

Car probably smells so good, new car freshener off amazon every week. Surely the ones that you stick in your air vent and not the ones that hang off the rear view mirror. Definitely stuck eyelashes on the headlights, when it’s Christmas time she’d put reindeer antlers and a red nose. Depends how she’s feeling, the car can be really spotless or it looks like a bomb has gone off it it, no in between. 100% lots of receipts lying around from her shopping trips so when she needs to return something she doesn’t even bother otherwise she needs to scavenge through the whole archive she has in her car. Most likely has terrible road rage and always uses the gear stick wrong that the whole car jolts in traffic. Would also drive over potholes like it’s nothing.

Choso Kamo - Gives me car-less vibes, Lexus at most.

I'm ngl if we're talking pure anime/manga and not fanart Choso, he lowk looks like he doesn’t know how to drive. Like idkw I cannot imagine him in a car. Maybe a Lexus if he did drive but that's about it. Relies on people to give him lifts, aka his girl Yuki who drives LMAO. Certified passenger princess. The type to make you drop him off a block away cause he doesn't want to waste your gas. Definitely clutches on to the handle above if you drive a little too fast. Very polite rider and too scared to take control of the car radio so if he has to listen to country FM then yeah he would just firm it. Also too afraid to touch anything in the car thinking it would blow up.

Toji Fushiguro - Don't even get me started. Ik that mf got his car off Craigslist.

Bought it off a single mother who owns a 5 door car that has paint chipping off it and a new tyre is needed every 4 days, so there’s just 3 nice stock wheels and then you see the ugly ass spare tyre on the back right wheel of the car. That shit be lookin like a registered offenders car so bad that police stops him every block. Food wrappers and empty water bottles filled of piss underneath the car seats, it definitely has those ugly ass fabric material grey seats. The car would smell like you just finished eating a McDonald’s in there even though no one fucking ate McDonald’s in there ever. Windows aren’t even automatic they’re that handle rolling one where it’s a workout to bring it up. He definitely hangs around the gas station vacuum self service area to open the box and steal all the nickels and pennies for gas money. He put a towel in the backseat for his worm like its a damn dog otherwise if they fought then the worm gets locked away in the trunk. Also wipers don't work and his car exterior always has the dusty ass mud stain like where is this man driving???

Ryomen Sukuna - Dodge Charger SRT Hellcat.

No questions. ALL BLACK. That man is like the undertaker at night. cause he's annoying like that, catch him doing donuts at your nearest fucking junction when people are just trying to get home or go to work. Definitely has a stash of speeding tickets in his compartment and went to court for speeding but failed to show up, once like how did he not get his licensed revoked?? Maybe even knocked over a few people, for sure honks at the car in front of him the millisecond the light turns green. Asks people who drive a minivan to race him. Loud music playing 24/7. His playlist would be Glokk40spaz or Rich Amiri. THIS MF TAILGATES. God forbid you come across him in traffic. I'd literally swerve the other way and take the longest way home. I just know Sukuna would be the type to wear scary masks and traumatize babies who stare at him from other cars in the traffic, and the parents would be so confused to why their baby was screaming crying.

Yuji Itadori - A fucking bicycle

cannot be trusted with a car, if he had one then he would always stop on the highway while cars are moving at 120mph to help a cat and its litter cross the damn road. His bike wheels definitely got stolen once but they kindly left the bike frame. He'd have one of those clown bike horns but barely uses it cause he's too scared to stand up for himself. He cycles on the wrong side of the path, always has a near collison experience with people walking his way, too scared to cycle on the actual road like a grown up. For sure wears a helmet and knee pads like he's about to deploy into war.

Megumi Fushiguro - A fully modified Nissan GTR.

Definitely a more sensible driver though. The one person who has a sick car modified to the heavens. I feel like it would be a nice dark blue or even a black. Only times he'd drive it would be when Nobara would beg for a lift to the shopping mall, or Yuji just wants to ride in the car for no reason. Car is absolutely spotless. Multiple girls have hollered at him through the window but he'd just side eye them and roll the windows back up. That shit has a spoiler, doesn't let ANYONE eat in his car. For sure on #cartok, I just know he has a secret tiktok and instagram account where he posts those sigma car videos of his car and edits them on capcut like a pro.

Mahito - 100% a Honda N-Box

lots of fucking rear windscreen decorations and liveries. For sure has driven too fast before that the car almost tilt over on its side. Shit at parking, would be good but he always parks crooked no matter what. Gives me vibes where he'd hang fuzzy dice cubes from his rear view mirror. I just know he has locked his car keys inside his car before cause he seems like a forgetful person. People definitely tried to hijack his car before. 100% driven over a curb and just said “oops.”

Hiromi Higuruma - 2021 Audi RS7 (Sportback)

this man is well kept, I mean he's literally a lawyer. Mans got the moola for that. Would also keep it simple, opt for an all black glossy exterior. Drives with two hands but not in a weird way. Always lets children going to school cross the road before him, even if it's not a crosswalk. Would patiently wait as an elderly person crosses the road, he might even get out of the car to help. He doesn't care about the other cars honking in the back. I feel like this man is a master at parking, and the type to also offer you a lift home if it's getting too dark or the weather is awful outside. His car would not have an air freshener, but instead his own cologne would be the car freshener. Definitely wears Creed cologne. Very neat, and his car is spotless without trying. Except for the paperwork that's stowed away in the glove compartment underneath the dashboard and occasionally flies open.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24. all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts. 🎀🩷

#jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #kento nanami x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #choso kamo #choso kamo x reader #ryomen sukuna #yuji itadori #yuji itadori x reader #higuruma hiromi #satoru gojo #gojo satoru x reader #nobara kugisaki #nobara x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader

[mvpmiral]

Honda crossover

#Honda crossover driver#

#Honda crossover full#

#Honda crossover android#

Sheer space aside, the new HR-V offers a greatly improved experience for everyone. It does offer plenty of spots for smaller items with a deep center console storage bin to keep everything secure and out of sight. That’s an impressive amount of cargo room for such a small vehicle, but about the same as the old model. There are 24.4 cubic-feet behind the 60/40 split-folding rear seats with 55.1 with them folded. The bigger footprint strangely doesn’t translate to more cargo room. They even help stabilize your upper body, so your arms stay relaxed and your eyes stay easily focused on the road. There are support structures that stabilize your body as you drive so you don’t feel the need to keep shifting around to stay comfortable. This isn’t something you see, but it is something you feel. In addition to looking better, the HR-V is more comfortable with new Body Stabilizing Seats designed to improve the ride on longer drives. An upgraded cabin with nicer materials, comfier and more supportive seats, and upgraded fabrics await HR-V drivers.

#Honda crossover driver#

In every trim, materials were thoughtfully chosen to create a comfortable, welcoming space for driver and passengers alike. The top EX-L adds leather-trimmed seating surfaces and an eight-way power driver’s seat for added comfort. The base LX trim has attractive fabric seating surfaces with an eye-catching metal honeycomb mesh adorning the dashboard, similar to that of this year’s redesigned Civic. Open the door and the changes are even more dramatic, with high-quality materials that avoid making the HR-V look like an economy car. At 179.8 inches long, it also slots neatly between rival crossovers like Volkswagen’s Taos and Tiguan. Now it looks like a car that will make the trip one to enjoy. It no longer has the air of an appliance that simply gets you from one point to the next and nothing more. It’s still Honda’s smallest crossover, but the new HR-V is 2.6 inches wider and 8.7 inches longer with bold, curving lines that make it look sporty and fun. Improvements start on the outside with a new look that adds significant curb appeal. If you wish to re-use this content, please contact Torque News for terms and conditions.There’s not much in this vehicle that Honda didn’t change. You can follow John on TikTok on Twitter, and view his credentials at Linkedin In addition to Torque News, John's work has appeared in print in dozens of American news outlets and he provides reviews to many vehicle shopping sites. After earning his mechanical engineering degree, John completed a marketing program at Northeastern University and worked with automotive component manufacturers, in the semiconductor industry, and in biotech. John's interest in EVs goes back to 1990, when he designed the thermal control system for an EV battery as part of an academic team. John Goreham is a long-time New England Motor Press Association member and recovering engineer.

#Honda crossover full#

Watch Torque News for a full review with a broader explanation of its many great features soon. The all-new 2023 HR-V is poised to be a hit for Honda. HDC is a feature we use on steep snow-covered trails in winter, and it is great to see Honda finally adding in this great safety system. Well, it’s here and not in the Ridgeline or Passport, but the HR-V. We are big fans of Honda and for years have been hoping the brand would add Hill Descent Control.

#Honda crossover android#

The EX-L trim comes with a larger 9-inch color touchscreen with wireless Apple CarPlay and Android Auto compatibility, plus a Qi-compatible wireless charging pad.Ģ023 Honda HR-V - Hill Descent Control (HDC) The base infotainment system includes a 7-inch color LCD instrument display and also a 7-inch multi-information display with user-selectable functions. In affordable small crossovers added power is always welcome.Ģ023 Honda HR-V - New Infotainment System With Wireless Phone MirroringĪll 2023 HR-Vs will have Apple Car Play and Android Auto. The new engine adds 17 horsepower, and Honda says it has lower emissions than the outgoing engine. Powering every 2023 HR-V is a 2.0-liter 4-cylinder engine producing 158 peak horsepower. Honda has added a bit of oomph to the HR-V, and we feel this is important. We have scanned the full breakdown of its changes and filtered out these three we think most buyers will find of the greatest importance.Ģ023 Honda HR-V - More Powerful Cleaner Engine It rides on a new platform, has a new engine, a new infotainment system, and much more. Related Story: Honda Adds Two Years Of Included Maintenance To 2023 Modelsįor 2023, the HR-V is all-new. The HR-V is the CR-V’s slightly smaller sibling and is a very popular entry model for the Honda brand. with the rear seats up, and that can expand to 55.1cu.-ft with them dropped. The cargo volume is a generous 24.4 cu.-ft. Honda’s HR-V is a five-passenger crossover with a reputation for being very user-friendly.

#Honda crossover

[prodshima]

when you forget to give them a kiss

genre: fluff ft. timeskip! oikawa, tsukishima, nishinoya x f!reader

warnings: none

; anon’s req — may i pls rq oikawa w/forgetting to give him a kiss?

note: my first ever req omg thank u sm anon <3 i hope i met your expectations! also, tysm for 100 followers! im actually shedding tears rn <3

part one

oikawa tooru

the door creaking followed by thuds of leather shoes falling one after another and clothes rustling had never failed to make your heart swoon once again, the familiar sound letting you know that your husband has came back to the comfort of your home— “Y/NNNN” a loud whine breaks the once silence room as you let out a fake disappointed sigh “wow what a way to ruin the mood tooru” he erupts in giggles, making your own curve into a smile, he comes up behind you, caressing your sides “y/n? y/n? love? honey? sweetheart? darling? my hotheaded wife? can i have some kisses please “ he pouts at you, the expression that always make you give in to him, you nudge his arm lightly, still careful not to actually hurt him “go away tooru you’re sweaty and stinky” you turn around, facing him with a disgusted expression and glaring playfully at his pouting lips “y/n is this who we are? i came home tired and i don’t even get a breadcrumb of my wife’s attention?” “oh fuck you. go take a bath first and i’ll give you as much as you wa— tooru?” you blink, dumbfounded, your eyes roamed around the room, looking for the brown haired man child who had disappeared in a flash, only to hear his loud footsteps coming from the second floor, you shake your head as you laugh at his usual behavior around the house. all of your attention was now drawn to the video playing in front of you, a youtube tutorial about how to make your husband shut up homemade milk bread that you didn’t even notice the fast pace of footsteps heading towards you, making you jolt up from your feet when he rests his chin on top your head “tooru! can you at least give me a heads up?! you’re gonna give me a heart attack on one of these days” you sigh heavily before relaxing back to his touch, his fingers rubbing circles on the center of your tummy, “you said you’d give me kisses when i finish shower” he reminds “fine but wait, let me finish this vid—“ no, he doesn’t let you finish as he pockets your phone and plops you to the couch, caging you between his arms “do that later y’know i can’t sleep peacefully without your kisses” you look at him with adoration on your eyes, you decide not to tease him further, figuring out he’s need for some rest for the rest of the night as you kiss his forehead, his temple, his rosy cheeks, his nose, and his lips, the bottom jutting out in a pout you swear you saw a small smirk appear on his lips

tsukishima kei

midterms were right around the corner, the fourth semester finally coming to an end. your boyfriend had texted you earlier he’d come over to study with you for the upcoming finals so here you were, slouched against the bed with your laptop placed on your lap and papers laid all over the bedside table while tsukishima was seated beside you, phone on his hand. however, you could feel his eyes on you every minute ever since he plopped himself beside you, you shrugged it off at first, thinking he was just bored, but you were concerned on how it happened again, and again, and again, though every time you switch your gaze to his direction, he would whip his head away from you, he takes a glance and you take it as an advantage to ask him “okay tsukki what is it?spit it out” you move the laptop away from your lap, causing him to swallow audibly “it’s n—“ “don’t even try to deny it, the second we got here you kept staring at me like a prey looking out for its predator” he nips on his bottom lip as he thinks of a reason to cover up his real intentions, but you know him too well for that, every time he nips his bottom lip, he’d be forced to spill out how he wants something from you, however, this time, you want to hear it directly from his mouth but if he’s not gonna say anything then he’s not getting anything, is he? “you’re really not gonna say it? suit yourself then” you tell him, no emotion on your voice as you place your laptop back to the small breakfast table that you had used for variety of things. meanwhile, tsukishima was having a debate with himself whether he’d wait for at least six hours for you to finish or he’ll lower his ego for you to give him his kisses. he stares at you hesitantly before nuzzling his face to your neck “you didn’t give me any kisses today y/n” his voice mumbled but still remains stoic and rough, your eyes widen slightly on his confession, not expecting him to say that he wants kisses even though he acts like he doesn’t like it every time you initiate something intimate “aw my needy baby wants some kisses?” “fuck off y/n” you shush him up, threatening him how you wouldn’t give him the kisses you had forgotten to give him earlier because of tired you were. he finally gave in after minutes of teasing and of course you showered him with kisses for that! you don’t complain though as you can also take this moment as your rest from all the studying you did for the past two hours.

nishinoya yu

you stand up, clapping your hands together loudly as karasuno spikes the ball down once again, winning with a two point gap for the last set. your eyes brimming with tears when your eyes land on noya who has a big grin stuck on his face despite the tears falling down to his shoulder. nishinoya quickly scans the crowd, and when he finds you staring at him, he stares back at you with love, jumping up and down with a medal clinging on his neck, you smile back at him and wave your arms above your head as you mouth him congratulations and i love you’s. the crowd soon decreases, the gym left filled with cries and squeals of the winning team. nishinoya jumps off the chair when he sees you together with yachi, both hers and yours hands occupied with food and drinks for the whole team. you rub off your hands together when you finally finish putting down all the food you bought. like usual, you make your way to place yourself on his lap, muttering a “congratulations” and he flutters his eyes close, nestling himself on your clothed chest while you run your hands through his hair. he soon wakes up when you shake him off to get him some food, he shakes his head, tightening his hold on you “c’mon baby let’s get you some food so we can go back sooner” you pat his forearm “fine but give me a kiss first” he demands “pft no thanks you’re sweaty” “you say that now when you basically clung yourself on me earlier?” he immediately apologizes though when you glare at him. it’s afternoon now, you both bid goodbyes to his teammates and head towards the car to drive back to your house. you arrive around six pm and both of you showered (together/j) straight away when you arrived as to not dirt off any part of the house. he sees you sitting on the couch and sits down beside you as well, you look at him, beaming him a smile before glancing back to your phone, he looks at you intently and waits.. and waits.. and waits  “y/nnnn” he whines and grabs your phone in annoyance, tossing it on the opposite side of the couch before hoisting you on his lap “baby give me some of your magical powers please” you smile in knowing before peppering him with kisses <3

© all works belong to @prodshima — do not plagiarize, copy, modify, or claim my works as your own

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fics #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fanfiction #oikawa x y/n #oikawa x you #oikawa x reader #oikawa scenarios #oikawa imagines #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima scenarios #nishinoya x y/n #nishinoya x you #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya scenarios

[sukirichi]

— there’s always a price to pay when you get your hands on a work of art.

PAIRING: tattoo! artist megumi x reader

REQUEST. tattoo artist au + mutual pining + size kink, praise kink, thigh riding + reader is shorter than megumi and isn’t shy 

WARNINGS: feral megumi, scratching, vaginal sex, size kink, praise kink, mature content, slight overstimulation, sexual tension lol, unedited story

NOTES: ah thank you so much for this request, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Here is my third contribution for FERAL MEGUMI FRIDAYS! and oh wow tattoo artist megumi uh no thoughts head empty

WC: 5.4k+

The tattoo saloon loomed over you, the neon signs almost blinding in the darkness. You could feel your heart pick up its pace in your chest as you hitched your bag up higher, the excitement settling in your toes. Mustering up the brightest smile you could have, you cleared your throat and pushed the door open, the tiny bell on top jingling to signal your arrival.

Your eyes roamed around the walls covered with intricate drawings, the leather seats dark and kept in pristine. Now that was rare – your leather couches always wore out in just a few weeks.

Making your way inside, grip on your sling bag still tight, you bit your lip as you peaked behind the counter. Empty. No one was there, and the nearby opened rooms were empty as well. Scratching your head, you scrunched your nose in confusion. You were sure you got the right place.

With a heavy sigh, you turned to leave, then stopped in your tracks when a dark-haired man exited a door you hadn’t even noticed at first.

He was tall – taller than you; his arms stretched until the sleeves of his black hoodie were pulled down, revealing a sliver of black tattoos that marked his skin. Upon hearing your awed gasp, his cold blue eyes fluttered to yours, the man – who was absolutely handsome despite his frown – froze in his spot.

You waved a hand to him, your smile bigger than ever. “Hi!” So you would be working with this cute guy? Maybe job-hunting wasn’t such a bad experience, after all.

“Hey,” he drawled out hesitantly, approaching you with his ink stained fingers pointed at you. He was still frowning, which was a damn shame, since you were sure he’d look even hotter if he smiled. “So...you’re Y/N.”

“Yeah!”

“And you...” he tilted his head to the side, inquisitive eyes studying your form. You would’ve felt conscious with the way his brows furrowed, eyes unreadable and lips pressed into a thin line, but you were sure you dressed to impress on your first interview. You admitted, however, that maybe wearing a white collared shirt with a pink tennis skirt made you stand out like a sore thumb in the heaviness of the studio. “...want to be a front desk man here?”

“Yeah!”

“What makes you think you’re qualified for this?” he crossed his arms on his chest, and you didn’t miss the slight bite of his voice. So he was handsome – but cranky. Great. “You don’t look like you fit in here.”

“Judging someone’s appearance and inferring that it has any relation to their credentials isn’t such a professional thing to do, you know,” you raised your chin proudly, jutting a pointer finger to his chest. He clearly didn’t expect this because he scowled and took a step back, while you fought the grin that threatened to paint your face. “Would you like it if people told you that you’re not qualified to be a lawyer because of your tattoos and piercings?”

He scoffed, “I don’t want to be a lawyer. As you can see, I’m a tattoo artist. And to answer your question, no, I don’t give a fuck what people think about me.”

“I can tell,” you muttered to yourself before smiling back up at him. He was too easy to read; his brow quivering and lips firm at your faux enthusiasm. “But yes, I do believe I’m qualified! I’m a fast learner and I’m even quick on my feet! I’m really good at talking to people too so I believe I can help schedule client appointments really well and guide them with this whole process.”

“Being front desk man doesn’t mean serving the clients tea and biscuits.”

“I know.”

“You know?” he snorted with a roll of his eyes. He then gestured you to follow him all the way back to the front desk. You expected he’d teach you about how to handle the appointment books or pick up phone calls, but instead he plopped down on the leather couch of the waiting area, his legs crossed on top of the other.

Your eyes followed the patch of pale skin exposed from his ripped jeans before you looked away, not wanting him to see that you found him attractive despite his less than welcoming personality.

“What exactly do you know about this industry?”

“Nothing, to be honest, but I’m not here to be a tattoo artist or anything. I just really need a job and I assure you I’ve got plenty of experience and knowledge when it comes to manning front desks or counters,” you stated confidently, “I know I look out of place, but I really need this job.”

The man only narrowed his eyes at you. Contemplation was written all over his face, probably wondering why you couldn’t just work somewhere else. “Why come here, of all places?”

“Because it’s the only one that has a flexible schedule,” you sighed, “I can’t work shifts anymore because I’m too busy at university. From when I talked to your boss – Geto, was it? – he said that the salon was open 24/7 and I could work until before my classes start. He’s not really strict about that kind of thing.”

“So you mean to tell me,” he leaned forwards, looping his fingers with one another while his ice cold gaze slithered over your desperate ones. “You’ll be at university for half the day, sleep until midnight, and then come here to work and attend class a few hours later? Isn’t your schedule a little irregular?”

“Oh no, it’s not like that! I also have mock classes after uni and it lasts until late at night, then I help clean at the local shelter. They’re running out of volunteers and the dogs are really adorable and take my stress away so...I make sure to come by when I have time.”

“You are one odd creature,” he noted loudly, almost as if he wasn’t completely aware he vocalized his thoughts. Well, at least now you knew he wasn’t the type to think his words over, which either made him more entertaining – or insufferable the longer you worked with him – if you began working anyway. “You could’ve used your spare time to rest. Do you even eat?”

“Yeah, I have a granola bar right now with me! I actually brought two,” you pulled out the snack from your bag, “You want some? I only got the oats, though.”

“Keep it to yourself,” he rolled his eyes, slapping his hands over his knees before rummaging over something behind the counter. “Fine. If Geto said he’s okay with you, then you’re hired.”

“Really, that easy?” your eyes widened, but then you chuckled when this strange man glared at you in response. He sighed as he pulled out a piece of paper, a pen on top of it. The papers read something about application forms and credentials, and you beamed, happily writing your information away with a slight bounce in your toes.

Unable to keep your happiness to yourself, you looked back at the bored man, wiggling your eyebrows playfully. “Huh. I was kind of expecting you would grill me – you’ve got that scary look in your eye. Let me guess, you often scare clients off?”

It seemed he could never get tired of glaring at you, because his eyes fuelled with heat as he leaned against the wall.

You hated to admit that he looked ridiculously handsome like that – the guy wasn’t even doing anything remotely attractive in the first place!

“I’m the most booked artist here, and I ask that you don’t get too comfortable with me. You haven’t even started working here and you’re already riling up on my train,” he groaned when you merely laughed in response. He made quick work of signing something in your form before handing you a key. “Here’s for your locker. Come to work tomorrow. Geto won’t be around for a week so I’ll be the one judging your performance. If you fuck up in the slightest – I won’t hesitate to fire you, you understand? We always have Yuuji coming around anyway, you’re really not that needed for the front desk.”

“Oh,” you nodded at his harshness, unsure whether to feel threatened or amused. “O-okay. I’ll do my best then. I look forward to you – ah, wait, what’s your name?”

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

“Oh, that’s a pretty name,” you muttered to yourself, uttering his name over and over again until it rolled smoothly on your tongue. “Shame you have a shitty attitude along with that handsome face, though.”

“You trying to say something?”

You faced him, about to laugh when he scowled at your not-so-subtle comments. Waving your hands to him, you made your way out the door, your smile only irritating him further. “No, I wasn’t. I’ll be taking my leave then – see you tomorrow!”

Seems like working in a tattoo studio wouldn’t be so bad.

You came to work the next day early and pumped with adrenaline. The idea of meeting the moody tattoo artist caused you to be giggly and happy the whole day, not even feeling the exhaustion of a long day of hard work as you made your way inside the shop.

Clocking in at exactly two in the morning, you proudly tugged your name badge on top of your left breast, patting it for good luck.

The bells jingled, making you look away from your tag. “Good morning – oh, where’s Megumi?” The man standing in front of you was taller than Megumi, his head nearly knocking over the doorframe if it wasn’t for his poor, slouched lanky frame.

He had white hair that brushed atop his cerulean blue eyes, and your eyes widened because wow, he was beautiful.

“Hey, you must be Y/N! Megumi told me you came around yesterday but he didn’t tell me the counter girl was this pretty,” He was in front of you the next second, his nose nearly grazing over yours that had you leaning back into the wall for space. “Hmm...he didn’t tell me that at all.”

“Oh, thank you. You are...?”

“I’m Gojo Satoru, one of the senior artists here. Since Megumi isn’t here yet, let me give you a tour!” Before you could react, Satoru already had an arm wrapped around your shoulder, his other arm waving and pointing to all the hung paintings and labels on each door. You found it odd that he treated you like you were an old friend, but you weren’t going to complain. Nice co-workers were always welcomed.

“Here is the holding area where clients wait to get their session done. This is Geto’s studio and right next to that is his office where he does all the finances and all that jazz, while this is my studio. Cool, isn’t it?”

Your mouth fell ajar as Satoru led you inside his studio, the walls painted the same aquatic shade of his eyes, but what caught your attention was the galaxy themed tattoo designs he made. They came in different shapes – a volcano head, a dragon, a worm, a four-armed monster – but inside them were all galaxies with sparkling and burning stars. You could see everything and nothing all at the same time.

“Whoa, you made all this?!”

Satoru’s chest puffed out proudly, “Yeah, I did. I’m flattered by your reaction, I really am, but you haven’t seen Megumi’s yet. There’s a reason our salon boomed even though he’s only been working here for two years.”

At the mention of his name, your interest was piqued, all ears and curious smiles directed to Satoru. “Oh, can I see Megumi’s studio?”

“You can – if you book an appointment.”

“But I don’t plan on getting any tattoos,” you frowned.

“You’ll never get to see his work then,” he chuckled to himself, the sound growing louder when you visibly deflated. What was the point of getting your hopes up like that then? “Megumi doesn’t like letting others in his studio without permission or an appointment.”

“Why not?”

“He’s just iffy about it,” he shrugged, “Don’t bother trying to decode his personality anymore, Megumi’s very hard to understand. Though if I were to make sense of it...” he rubbed his chin, eyes looking out into the distance. “I guess you could say Megumi’s not the type to be showy when it comes to his work of art. Did that clear it up?”

You blinked back blankly. “No, not really. But it’s fine – I don’t plan on getting to know him anyway.”

That was the biggest lie of your life.

The moment Megumi came around a few minutes later, a loud groan upon your animated greeting over his arrival, your chest bloomed with a different kind of fluttery warmth. He rarely came out after that, clients swarming in to both his and Satoru’s studios, but each faint glimpse of his door cracking open that allowed you to see him focused as he worked, you could no longer deny the heat burning down your legs.

You crushed on the grumpy tattoo artist.

And the more you came around work, greeting him zealously and teasing him to no end that he’d look hotter if he smiled, your crush only intensified for him – completely unaware that he too, couldn’t get his thoughts off of you even with his door closed.

In fact, he kept his door closed all the time because your voice distracted him too much.

“Hey, Y/N, you free?”

You looked up from the textbook you were reviewing, slamming it shut when Satoru’s head peeked out from his studio. He was still wearing gloves with a pen between his fingers, most likely still in the middle of a session.

“Yep! We don’t have appointments yet and I’ve already closed it for non-appointees. Did you need me to get you something?”

“Yeah, could you get Megumi for me? He isn’t picking his phone up and one of our special clients are coming soon. I’m packed right now so I can’t fetch him. I’ll send you the address and you get him, yeah? Just open the counter if you need money for a cab.”

You blinked owlishly at him. On one side, you’d be more than glad to see Megumi again. He hadn’t arrived despite it being four in the morning already, and you were worried, but you also didn’t have his number to ask how he was doing. Progress with Megumi was...slow, to say the least.

He still holed himself up in his studio, coming out only for bathroom breaks, although you noticed a drastic improvement when he finally began to mutter an almost shy “good morning” under his breath for the past few weeks.

It wasn’t much, but you’d have to make do.

“Uhm, when is this client of his coming? Should I run...?”

“Yeah, you need to fucking run. They’re coming in an hour and a half!” Satoru exclaimed, flailing his hands around like a madman.

Even after working with him for some time, you still couldn’t believe the older man was practically a man child, even asking for head pats sometimes. He would lean down with a pout, using a squeaky voice to call your attention, which always succeeded in Megumi fake gagging before he locked himself inside his studio.

“Forwarded you his address. Really sorry for the inconvenience, Y/N!”

“It’s okay!” you jumped out of your seat in an instant, not bothering to take your name tag off anymore as you left the salon, hailing the nearest cab.

Megumi lived quite far from the salon, which had you wondering why he chose to work there when there were plenty of salons in his area too. His place looked shady, as well, his apartment in a high-rise building with endless graffiti and several drunk stragglers hooting for you.

You ignored them all, taking two steps at a time from his staircase, your hands on your knees as you panted for air. Why did he have to live on the tenth floor?

“Megumi! Megumi!” you banged your fist on the door, throat parched from your sudden cardio session. You were sure you burned ten calories just from that sprint, and you sighed in relief when Megumi swung the door open, still looking handsome – and sleep-deprived – as ever in his black shirt and black skinny jeans.

“What?” he demanded. After seeing that it was you, he quickly snatched a water bottle and passed it your way, closing his door behind him. “Y/N? What are you doing here? How’d you know where I live?”

“Satoru said you had a really important client. You weren’t picking your phone up so he sent me to come get you.”

“It’s my day off,” he grumbled, answering your silent questions, your worries dissipating into thin air. Once you’d satisfied yourself by basically dunking the entire bottle, Megumi rolled his eyes, his hands flat on the small of your back while he guided you downstairs. The sudden touch flamed your cheeks; a stupid smile on your face. You were shameless, though, leaning back closer to him in the darkness of the early morning. “Why does he send a girl out of all people?”

“Something wrong with that?”

“It’s unsafe. My neighbourhood isn’t the best and who knows what would’ve happened to you if some goons came out?” Megumi hailed for a back, surprising you when he let you get in first and paid for the fee despite your outstretched hand prepared with the bills. “I can’t believe Sukuna chose this day to come of all times. I can never get a damn break.”

“Sukuna?”

“A special client. He’s a really huge tipper and comes on odd schedules – I didn’t think he’d come now.”

“Yeah, I checked the papers and he wasn’t there,” you frowned to yourself.

Megumi pressed his head against the window, eyes closed as his chest heaved up and down rhythmically. With the sun slowly shining from behind you, the golden stretches of it outlined his sharp features you adored, and you rested your chin on your palms, eyelashes fluttering at his beauty. “You know, Megumi, you’re really pissy sometimes – but you’re quite nice, aren’t you? I’d say you were even worried for me.”

He cracked one eye open, those blue eyes still shining with irritation, but make no mistake since his ears were flushed red. “I’m not. I just don’t want to be involved in a police investigation if they find your body near here.”

“How sweet of you.”

“Shut up.”

You and Megumi were beginning to get closer. You couldn’t pinpoint where he started to grow more comfortable with you, but it was definitely there and it was painfully evident that even someone stupid like Satoru noticed the sexual between you two.

He would always sniff the air whenever you and Megumi sat next to each other during lunch breaks, a wide grin on your face while Megumi buried his face in his hands, groaning because he knew the moment Satoru opened his mouth, nothing but dumb comments would come out. And dumb comments they were; the white-haired man merciless as he teased Megumi for acting like a cute little kid around you.

You never took it to heart, though. It was Megumi you were talking about; he was hot and cold; sweet then distant from one moment then an entire person the next.

Not that you minded, it only added to your fuelling crush on him, but you couldn’t control the way your heart fluttered every time Satoru whispered that he did like you, excusing that Megumi just wasn’t the best with words. Apparently, Megumi had spent too much time holed up in his apartment and studio that he had zero to little knowledge on how to talk to pretty girls – especially one that was clearly attracted to him as well.

Satoru encouraged you to go for it – that you should confess or break the ice first otherwise Megumi would never do anything about his raging boner every time you came around.

You only flushed at his statement, but you couldn’t deny that you too felt the same way.

One morning where Satoru and Geto were out restocking supplies, you and Megumi were left alone in the salon. Of course, he still resorted in the comfort of his studio, muttering under his breath that he wanted to try some designs before disappearing. Only this time, he left the door slightly open, the lights peeking through the slight crack.

Walking up to him with muted footsteps, you leaned over his shoulder, glancing over a sketch of...you? “Are you drawing me?”

Megumi yelped at your voice right next to his ear, throwing the paper away on the other side of the room before glaring at you. You laughed at his reaction, because how was it possible he was both so criminally sexy yet adorable? He looked terribly gorgeous today, as well, wearing a short sleeved black hoodie and black sweatpants, looking so comfortable and boyfriend like – and you couldn’t even begin to express your appreciation over his new lip piercing.

“Why do you always sneak up on me?” he snapped, “Didn’t I tell you I wanted privacy?”

“Then why aren’t you pushing me away?”

Megumi sighed exasperatedly, turning back to organize his pencils before glaring at you. “What do you want? Got no one else to bother since Satoru isn’t around?”

“I just wanted to see your art,” you mentioned, but kept your eyes directed on him instead of the plethora of sketches and designs hanging from his wall as to not offend him. “Satoru told me to never come inside. He said you’re really...private when it comes to your works,” you furrowed your brows at the last part, feeling your heart beat pulse at your tongue.

It was now or never.

“Can I see your tattoos too?”

“Why do you want to see them?”

“A work of art on a canvas who’s also a work of art himself?” you finally gained confidence to tease him again, getting riled up further when Megumi stiffened at your curious hands travelling under his shirt. His breath sharpened as his glare only deepened, though he didn’t make a move to stop you. “Why wouldn’t I want to see that?”

“Being flirty doesn’t work on you. It’s not cute.”

“You’re blushing though,” you remarked. Megumi groaned and pushed your face away until your buttocks landed on his recliner. Satisfied with Megumi not completely kicking you out, you swung your legs back and forth, still staring at his hoodie as if it was an offensive material.

“Can I...see?” Megumi rolled his eyes before he lifted his shirt up, revealing to you intricate patches of black ink splattered over ripples of muscles. Your mouth salivated, and somewhere down there, you drooled too. Tentatively, your hands reached out to finger the image of canines, Megumi shuddering over your cold touch on his warm skin. “It’s beautiful. What does it mean?”

Megumi pursed his lips before whispering, “These are the dogs I had as a child. My father got me them so I wouldn’t be too lonely when he’s away from work.”

“They’re very pretty. They look like black and white wolves,” you smiled, elated that he was opening up in more ways than one. Your touch flitted over to a winged creature under his left collarbone, small letters beside the image. “And this bird? Nue? He’s so majestic,” Your hands never stopped in trailing over his skin like a lost wanderer, sweeping over ink ink until Megumi completely discarded his hoodie to the side, his back faced to you.

A white viper tattoo stood large on his broad back, crawling until over his shoulder with the fangs ending just above his pecs. Megumi swallowed at each slivering touch, your fingers dipping and caressing every dent and curve of his body.

You couldn’t get your eyes off of him, your breath hitching in your throat as one of your hands gripped his biceps subconsciously. “You’re so beautiful.”

Megumi stiffened when your thumbs grazed over his nipple right next to the viper’s fang. Almost as if a switch was triggered inside him, Megumi growled, ducking to capture your lips with his in a sloppy, heated kiss. His hands tugged at the ends of your hair to arch your neck to him, his knees slapping your legs open before he settled comfortably between you, his low groans mixing with your breath moans.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. From the moment I met you,” he nibbled your lips, hands trailing down to thumb at your hipbones. “I knew that innocent good girl look was nothing but an act.”

You smiled through the kiss, a tiny gasp falling from your lips when Megumi pulled you closer until your heat grinded against the hardness inside his pants. Laughing at his harsh movements, you let Megumi tilt your head back, his lips sucking and teeth gently nipping at the sensitive flesh of your neck.

“Innocent girl?” you echoed, legs now wrapped around his waist to pull him closer. “What makes you think I am?”

“White lace panties? Short tennis skirts and sunshine smiles?” Megumi clenched his teeth, his hands eager as he tugged the white lace down until it looped to your ankles. You gasped, back arching when he thrusted two fingers inside you, curling and fingering against your bumpy walls. “You’re not fooling anyone, baby, especially not me.”

“Took you long enough to understand I wanted you though,” you chuckled through broken moans, eyes shut tight while your legs opened wider, heels digging into the hard cushion of his seats. “I was wondering when I’d get to break you from that tough guy act of yours and have you fuck me good,” Megumi growled at your words. You leaned forward to scratch at his chest, your tongue licking the shell of your ear as you rasped, “And on a side note, I am a good girl – only to those who can make me feel good, of course.”

Megumi cupped his palm to collect your arousal dripping of his, finally shutting you up when his fingers grazed over your sweet spot that had you clenching around him. And those were just his fingers. “You’re something else, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded smugly, hands coming up to tug harshly at his hair. Megumi hissed at the sharp pain, prompting him to fuck his fingers in and out of you faster until you leaked down to his chair, thighs trembling and your high-pitched moans coating the walls of his stupid. “Megumi, ah! Just shut up and fuck me already – been wanting you long enough.”

“Needy little girl,” He pressed you down on the reclining seat, settling between your legs before he spread your lips open with two thumbs. At the sight of your bare cunt clenching around nothing, Megumi groaned, teeth biting his lip because he could cum right then and there. “Fuck, look at you. So wet already,” he ran a hand over your slit to collect your arousal, eyes dark with lust as your juices webbed between his fingers. “All this for me? You’re so good.”

“Fuck – yeah, yeah I am,” you leaned back harder into the seat, groping at your own breasts while you nodded dumbly, too fucked out to even form a coherent response. “Going to be good for you, Megumi, gonna make you feel good.”

“Sorry, babe, maybe next time. I’m too impatient to not feel your pussy around me,” he pushed away at your hands that planned to pump his cock, his hand coming down to push you hard against the seat until his weight loomed over you.

You felt Megumi begin to align his tip at your center, dampening his mushroom head with your arousal first that had you both moaning left and right.

Hands scratching down his back as your teeth dug into your lips, Megumi pushed into you with one thrust, the sudden stretch making your legs shake and your body writhe underneath him. “Shit, why are you so tight? So fucking warm and perfect,” he rasped next to your ear, and you could hear how hard he was breathing as he thrusted into you, his cock hitting all the right places.  “Could fuck this pretty pussy all day, baby, shit.”

“Me-Megumi – t-too big!”

“Shh, you’ll be fine. You’ll take it like a good girl, won’t you?” he cupped your cheek, grinning sinisterly as he watched the way your greedy walls sucked him in. “See how you take me so well? You’re so small and pretty wrapped around my cock. I could break you if I wanted you,” he growled, his hands gripping hard at your hips when you clenched around him, enticing the man above you to quicken his pace.

Megumi watched with a lust filled gaze as your breasts bounced at the relentless pace he started, his balls slapping at your ass. “Oh, you’d want that, wouldn’t you? You want to be stuffed with my fat cock in you? Fuck you until you’re a drooling mess? You’re so gorgeous when I fuck you stupid.”

“Yes, Megumi, agh. Keep going, keep going, I’m so close!”

“Oh, you feel like heaven around me,” he praised at your neck, his cock stretching you wide and pushing into you. Megumi groaned lowly at your ear as his palms flattened over your stomach that bulged every time he thrusted in, his balls tightening at the sight. “Look at how big I am for you, baby, but you’re doing so well. You were made for me – made to take my cock, shit, you’re so perfect around me. Gonna make you feel good, yeah? You’re such a good girl for me. Cum, baby, that’s right – I’m allowing you to cum.”

“Gumi, Gumi, fuckkk,” your legs tightened around him as Megumi panted with each harsh thrust, the black marks over his skin expanding and stretch when his forearm rested beside your head. His muscles clenched as he fucked into you deep, over and over again until he pushed you over the edge.

A silent sob left your lips when you came around him, your juices creaming around his cock. A few thrusts later, Megumi fell on top of you as you felt him spill his seed inside you.

He had too much that you felt both your cum dripping down your ass; Megumi pulling out with a slight wince from the oversensitivity. You struggled to catch your breath as you laid there, legs wide open and the cool air hitting your bare pussy. The door was still open, and Satoru and Geto could walk in on you both looking like this, but you couldn’t care, not when you could barely feel your legs.

You dropped your arm over your face, hearing Megumi pull his pants back up. “That was...”

“Intense?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, wincing as you sat up. Your hair stuck to your forehead in sweaty clumps, dawning on you now that you were still very much covered in your sticky cum. You recoiled from the seats as you realized Megumi hadn’t even put on a towel underneath.

“Shit. Is this chair even clean?”

“I sanitize it every after session. Don’t worry about it,” he rolled his eyes, his tattoos covered and hidden from your sight once more when he pulled his hoodie over his head. Megumi retrieved a clean towel from his drawers and wiped at your sensitive pussy, your legs immediately closing around his hands when the towel accidentally grazed your clit.

Megumi gripped your knees with a silent glare. “Stay still. I’m cleaning you up.”

“I didn’t peg you as an aftercare guy. Thought you would leave me hanging here,” you teased, but really, you were feeling warm all over again as you watched Megumi wipe you all the way down to your other hole, your legs still tensing up.

Once he left to wash his hands, you could relax, tugging your panties back up with immense struggle. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d fuck you good – you could barely feel your legs now.

“And have you make a mess by ruining my seat?” he sighed as he returned, helping you seady yourself while he snapped the slightly soaked panty back to your core. “No thanks.”

“You’re so mean, Megumi. I’m hurt.”

He rolled his eyes at your pout, leaning down to kiss you square on the lips. This time around, the kiss wasn’t rushed; it was slow and sensual, firm yet gentle, and his hands carefully massaged your sore hips that would soon bruise from his grip before.

“No, you’re not,” he mumbled through your lips, mimicking that lovesick smile on your face as he pulled away. “But babe, you know the rules. Now that you’ve seen my work of art – what tattoo would you like me to give you? My name on your inner thigh?”

#fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi smut #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #fushiguro megumi x reader imagines #fushiguro megumi #megumi x reader imagines #fushiguro megumi x reader romance #fushiguro megumi x reader fluff #megumi x reader romance #megumi x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen romance #jujutsu kaisen fushiguro megumi #feral megumi #suki: 500 milestone event